


Burn With Me

by Disasteriffic_Kaz



Series: Burn With Me [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disasteriffic_Kaz/pseuds/Disasteriffic_Kaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters head to Centralia, PA for a job and find unfinished business waiting for them. Post 6x16 "…And Then There Were None." Tag for "Playing With Fire" hurt/comfort!Sam/Dean</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea since writing "Playing With Fire" and purposefully left it up in the air so I could come back to it…it's just taken me this long. Lol At some point there will be flashbacks to that one shot but I recommend reading it in its entirety. Iz good. You like. Here's the URL:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1475788

**Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678** :D– Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.

_**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!_ _**  
** _ **_~Reviews are Love~_ **

**_ _ **

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**Chapter 1**

Dean leaned out around the raised hood of the Impala and watched his brother come down the steps with a backward glance at Bobby's front door. He'd heard the yell a minute ago and sighed as Sam came over to him. "He bite your head off again? I told you to let him be for a while."

Sam rolled his eyes and leaned on the side of the car. "He wasn't yelling at me, thanks. He dropped his glass and it broke and…" He waved a hand to the house. Their father-figure was not taking Rufus' loss well at all, and Sam understood completely. He'd been ridden too many times and hurt the people he loved while possessed, Bobby among them. He knew exactly what the older Hunter was feeling and also knew talking about it wasn't high on his list. Sam wasn't sure he'd ever be able to put into words what it had felt like to watch himself kill Wandell, Bobby, Cas, and so many others he couldn't even count…what it had felt like to feel his own fists beating Dean to death and not be able to stop it no matter how loud he screamed.

"Stop it."

Sam jerked back to reality with the slap on his arm and looked over at Dean's worried face. He smiled. "Stop what? I'm fine."

"Uh huh." Dean watched him a moment longer to be sure and pushed him off the car while he dropped the hood into place. "Maybe we should get out of his hair for a bit. Find a job."

Sam smiled and shook his head. "I did. I was about to tell him when, you know, the whiskey glass personally insulted him, so I came out to tell you instead."

Dean snorted and headed for the house. "Well?"

"Creature in Centralia, Pennsylvania." Sam followed him up the steps and listened, hearing silence inside. He raised a brow and shrugged when Dean looked at him to say; he didn't know if Bobby was going to chew them out again or what. The witness accounts are…weird. Some of the victims were beaten up and almost all of them were scalded…"

"Scalded? Like 'hot water burn baby!' scalded?" Dean asked in his best Rain Man impression.

Sam chuckled and went inside ahead of him. "You're such a dork, and, yeah, that. They all claim to have been attacked by, get this, an elk."

"Homicidal elk in Pennsylvania, dude? Really?" Dean glanced in the living room and saw Bobby hunched over his desk, studiously not looking up at them, and Dean motioned up the stairs silently.

Sam nodded and went. Bobby was clearly not interested in being spoken to just then. "Should take us about a day's drive. There is one thing."

Dean gave him a glare when they reached the top of the stairs and headed for their rooms to pack. "I'm not gonna like this, am I?"

"No. Centralia's been abandoned." Sam stopped in the door to Dean's room and leaned against the door frame. "There're only ten people still living there even. Thing is, the state blocked off all the roads decades ago. You can't drive in. We have to hike and, unless we want the locals involved, find somewhere to camp as well."

Dean stared at him and threw up his arms. "Why the hell's it abandoned?"

"There's an ore rich coal seam that runs under the area for, like, seventy miles. And back in the…I think it was in the sixties, someone accidently set it on fire." Sam shrugged. "There's a perpetual fire burning under Centralia. It spews smoke, steam, and occasionally toxic gas out into the air, so we might wanna bring a gas mask just in case."

"Awesome," Dean groaned and rolled his eyes as he pulled his bag out from under his bed and started packing. "Anything else before we go start this magical damn mystery tour?"

Sam smirked and shook his head. "I'll go grab some supplies." The idea of camping always put Dean in a foul mood, though Sam was sure they could find some of the few remaining abandoned structures to use and avoid the need of a tent. He headed downstairs and slipped through the hall without disturbing Bobby to go back outside and to the storage shed.

Dean came down the stairs with two bags over his shoulder. He'd packed up his brother as well, figuring Sam was in the shed getting the gear he thought they'd need. He stopped in the door of Bobby's living room and dropped the bags. "We're heading out. Sam's found a job in Pennsylvania."

Bobby looked up from the book he wasn't reading and made himself meet Dean's eyes. He knew his boys thought he was pissed at them for something, but the truth…the truth was, he was afraid. Hell, he was terrified and having nightmares where another of those damn Khan worms got in his head and he killed one or both of them. So, Dean saying they were taking off - Bobby gave a sigh of relief and actually managed something close to a smile.

"You need me, you know, call."

Dean frowned as Bobby looked back down at the book on his desk. "Bobby, are you..."

"Don't make me throw somethin' at you, son. I'm fine." Bobby looked back up with a glare. "Will you two idjits get the hell from under foot for a day or three?"

Dean put his hands up in surrender and grabbed the bags. "Centralia, P-A. You call us if YOU need something." He went for the door with a smile for the growl Bobby gave him and escaped before something was hurled at his head.

Bobby sighed and sat back with a thump, staring up at the cracked devil's trap on the ceiling. "Rufus, you old bastard," he whispered and it was both sad and angry as he looked back down and poured himself another whiskey while the Impala's engine rumbled to life outside.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

"Maybe we should have convinced him to come with us," Sam said softly and looked over to see his brother shake his head.

"He needs alone time, dude. You know that."

Sam resisted the urge to flinch and nodded. "Yeah." It didn't make it any easier leaving Bobby alone to deal with what had happened. He yawned, hearing his jaw pop, and rolled his head into the window. They'd been driving for about twelve hours at that point and still had another seven or eight to go.

Dean rolled his eyes and focused on the road. They had just crossed the border into Pennsylvania. This, he thought, was one of the most boring drives anywhere in the country, crossing the width of that particular state with nothing but trees lining the highway, and, at night, the nothing was monotonous. A few hours later, Dean groaned as his eyes drooped for the third time, and he pulled off at the first rest stop he could find. It was more of a trucker stop - a long line of big rigs parked and dark for the night with a small, enclosed pavilion off to the side where bathrooms and vending machines beckoned from behind the glass.

"We there?" Sam asked sleepily, picking his head up off the window.

Dean snorted. "Not even close. I need to take a walk or something."

Sam opened his door and climbed out, stretching his arms over his head. "I can take over. You get some sleep." He rolled his eyes when Dean just waved at him and took off into the grass with a long-legged stride, jumping up and down occasionally. "Stubborn," Sam grumbled and headed for the rest rooms.

Dean hopped a few times and stretched down to touch his toes, trying not to hear the way his back crackled and popped on the way down. He groaned in relief as the pressure in his back released and stood back up, arching backward a little to finish the job of stretching. He looked out into the trees, black beyond the lights from the rest stop, and wondered why it was that most of Pennsylvania always looked like it had something lurking in the dark.

He turned back to the parking lot, giving his baby's sleek, black lines a long look under the lights, and let his eyes travel to the little pavilion. "Shit!" Dean shouted and broke into a run as he watched his not-so-little little brother pulled bodily from his feet and into the restroom. Panic blew through him. His heart pounded and he looked around but all the rigs were still dark. There hadn't been anything to hear from inside. Dean wrenched the glass door open and ran for the bathroom. "Sam!" He yanked the door open and then stopped in surprise.

"Little help…Dean!" Sam gasped and looked down at the vampire, a short, dark-haired man whose head he had wedged in the stall door.

"Sammy, what the hell?" Dean stared at the ridiculous sight and the man struggling to free his head. "I get it if the guy wanted a little rest-stop-roundup with ya, dude but…"

Sam rolled his eyes and put his shoulder to the door to keep it closed. "Vampire, Dean?" He grunted with the effort of keeping it trapped. "Shuddup already!" Sam growled when the creature hissed and drove his knee up into the thing's stomach. "Machete, dude?"

Dean stared in surprise for a moment and then shook his head, smirking as he ran a hand through his hair. "You got this? Yeah, you got this." He chuckled as Sam gave him a dirty look and went quickly back out to the car. "Only you, Sammy," Dean said ruefully. He went to the trunk and retrieved a machete, now thankful that all the truckers around them were blissfully asleep as he jogged back inside and found Sam and the vamp where he'd left them. "He tag you?" Dean asked suddenly, noticing that Sam seemed to be favoring his left side.

"Got his fangs into my back when he grabbed me," Sam told his brother and rolled his eyes. "I think he regrets that now."

"Yeah, sounds like it." Dean snorted while the vampire snarled and shouted and waved at him. "Go on. Open the door." Sam let go of the metal door and stepped back out of range. The vampire reared up with an angry yell, mouth open wide and bared fangs coated with his little brother's blood and turned to him. "Mistake, jackass," Dean informed angrily and swung. The creature's head was swept from its shoulders, hit the wall with a little wet splat, and slid to the floor while his body toppled into the toilet. "I hate PFV."

Sam chuckled and rolled out his shoulder, trying to ease the ache in his back. "Don't think the locals would appreciate you calling their state Pennsyl-fuckin-vania."

Dean bent and wiped his machete off on the vampire's shirt and stood, giving the body a kick. "The locals can suck it. Oh, wait…"

"Dude." Sam groaned and went past him for the door. He batted his brother's hand away. "Uh uh. Wash your hands."

Dean looked down and sighed. "Try not to bleed out 'til I get back to the car?" He grinned at his brother and went to the sink, washing the spots of vampire blood from his hands carefully. He shook his head at the odds of them picking a rest stop with a damn blood-sucker in the bathroom. "Winchester luck," he groaned and tossed his damp paper towels over the severed head. "Rest in pieces, asshole." Dean said and walked out.

Sam had his jacket off and the first aid kit out in the trunk, knowing there was no way Dean would just let him walk it off without a look. He smiled and shook his head while he tried to turn and crane his neck enough to get a look. "Dammit." The bite was just far enough down his shoulder blade he couldn't see it, but he could feel the burn, and the trickles of blood running down his back made him itch.

"Lemme see the damage," Dean asked as he rounded the trunk. He winced in sympathy when Sam turned a blood-soaked back to him. "Shit, dude."

"It's not that bad." Sam bent and let Dean shove his shirts up to get a look.

There was a ragged, round circle of punctures on Sam's left shoulder blade, all bleeding sluggishly, but his brother was right. It really wasn't that bad. "Yeah, you'll live."

Sam gritted his teeth through Dean cleaning the bite with holy water and sighed with relief when he put a bandage over it. "Thanks." He pulled his shirts off over his head and grabbed a couple clean ones from his bag while Dean put the first aid kit away. "I'm driving." He said as he pulled them on and went around the left side of the car.

"What? Dude! You just got munched." Dean shook his head. "You are not drivin' my baby."

Sam chuckled and pulled open the driver's door. "It's barely a bite, and, trust me, I'm wide awake now. Gimme the keys." He raised a brow when his brother glared at him and held out his hand. "Dean. Keys."

Dean snarled, took out his keys and tossed them over. "You crash my car, I _will_ bury your ass under Bobby's bathroom."

"Ugh. Dude, that's just wrong." Sam laughed and got behind the wheel with only a small wince of pain for his back.

Dean closed the trunk and got in the car, looking over at Sam as he fired up the engine. "I mean it, dude. Eternity under Bobby's crapper, and I ain't talkin' about the one in the house either." Dean smiled and folded his arms behind his head as he slid down in the seat to get comfortable. "The one in the shop. Your ghost can haunt the place for all eternity."

"You…you're just…I'm not listening to you anymore." Sam rolled his eyes, laughing and flicked the radio on. "Eww."

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Sam pulled off the interstate a few miles west of Centralia. It was still night and he didn't want them hiking in to unfamiliar territory in the dark, especially not somewhere as potentially dangerous as that abandoned city was likely to be. He took the detour into a small town and parked at the small motel on its outskirts. "Dean." Sam reached over and gave his sleeping brother a nudge in the shoulder.

"Five more minutes," Dean muttered and rolled into the window.

Sam chuckled. "You can have the rest of the night. Come on." He climbed out while Dean woke himself up and rented them a room. Dean was up and at the trunk grabbing their bags by the time Sam came back out, the routine so familiar he could have pretty much done it in his sleep. He pointed a few doors down and went to the door, unlocking it, and flicked on the lights. It was actually one of the more uninteresting rooms they'd ever stayed in - brown walls over brown carpet and flowered bedspreads. Sam tossed the key on the table by the door and looked over the beds and stopped with a frown. There was a wide, framed picture of a decaying city. It was a photograph and the buildings were half-obscured by white smoke. It said "Centralia" in script in the bottom right corner, but some enterprising soul had used red paint to scrawl 'Welcome to hell' across it.

"That's not ominous at all," Dean said as he came in and saw what Sam was staring at.

Sam shook himself and took the bag Dean handed him, managing a smile. "From what I've read, those words are painted all over Centralia on the roads and the buildings." He sat on the end of the far bed with a happy sigh and would have gone over if not for his brother, grabbing his arm and giving him a tug.

"Shower, dude. Wash off any vampire cooties." Dean grinned and pulled Sam up, pushing him to the bathroom.

Sam shook his head and went without arguing, closed the door, and had to bite his lip to get his shirts off over his head. His shoulder had stiffened during the last several hours. "Ow," He said softly and turned on the shower. Sam reached back and had to bend awkwardly to get at the bandage Dean had put there but finally managed to peel it off and toss it aside.

Dean listened to the shower run and took out his phone, dialing Bobby and was unsurprised when he picked up on the third ring in spite of the hour. "Hey, Bobby. Listen, can you ask around and see if anyone's heard of a vampire nest in central Pennsylvania?"

"What in hell'd you boys stumble into?" Bobby asked and rolled his eyes for the inevitable Winchester luck as Dean related the bathroom encounter. "Sam's alright?"

"Got chewed on a little, but he's fine," Dean assured him. "You hear anything about a nest, let us know. We can stop on the way back and clear it out, 'cause that jackass that took a bite out of Sam was one dumb son of a bitch." He chuckled again at the image of Sam with the creature's head wedged in the bathroom stall door. "Should'a taken a picture."

"Will do, son." Bobby grabbed his address book and started flipping through it.

"Bobby, you, uh…you need anything?" Dean asked and mentally kicked himself for somehow turning into Sam when he wasn't looking, poking at people's feelings and shit.

Bobby snorted, for once not pissed off because he could hear the clear discomfort in the younger man's voice. "I'm good, Dean. Just missin' my beauty sleep, so how about you idjits try NOT to get eaten for a day or three?"

Dean laughed. "Yes, sir." He hung up and tossed his phone on the nightstand with a sigh and then grabbed the first-aid kit. He nodded when Sam emerged from the bathroom, hair dripping and wisely not wearing a shirt yet.

"Knew you'd wanna poke at me." Sam pulled a chair out from the table and sat backwards on it so he could lean on the back and dropped his head onto his folded arms. "Bobby doing alright?" He glanced up to see the look of embarrassed surprise on Dean's face and laughed. "I promise not to let Batman know that you occasionally have a feeling or two."

Dean opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and settled for slapping the back of his brother's head. "Shut the hell up," he growled and pressed a wad of gauze with antiseptic over the bite on Sam's back, making his brother hiss in discomfort. "I am Batman."

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Lewis stumbled to his knees and muffled his cry of pain in his elbow. He staggered back to his feet and started running again. He hurt…God, everywhere, he hurt, but his legs were a misery. It was a small mercy that it was too dark yet to see how badly scalded and burned his legs were. Lewis bounced from tree to tree, hoping he was still heading for the road. He chanced a look back over his shoulder, but there was nothing to see…it wasn't there.

He'd have called for help if there were anyone to listen, but he was miles from the few remaining homes in Centralia. The air around him smelled like smoke and rotten eggs, and he coughed, trying to clear his lungs and get enough air. A rustling behind him made Lewis turn and he fell to the ground again. "Shit!" He yelled with the pain and backed across the ground on his butt. The unnatural warmth of the ground seeped up through the seat of his jeans, and he pulled himself back to his feet.

"No, no, no, no," Lewis chanted like a mantra and tried to run faster. The trees gave way at last to the cracked and buckled remains of the old highway and he sobbed with relief. "Yes!" He turned toward where he knew the block was and his car on the other side of it. Lewis ran only a few feet before the ground shook. The aged blacktop under his feet cracked and he fell from sight with a scream into a new sinkhole, while flames leaped and danced up into the night before dying away, leaving a soft glow in the bottom of the hole and blackened, scorched bones.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

_To Be Continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Dean rolled his head out of his pillow with the smell of coffee in his nose and groaned happily when his bleary eyes made out the white cup in front of his face. "Gimme."

Sam chuckled. "Morning to you too."

Dean took the cup and sipped with a blissed out smile for a moment for the dark, rich brew. "Dude, wherever you got this…more."

"Motel office," Sam told him and sat at the table in front of his laptop. "The owner's got this space-age giant coffee machine in there. Think I figured out what we're after…" He stopped and rolled his eyes as Dean ignored him and went for the bathroom. "Shower first. Right."

"Yeah, that too," Dean said with a grin and shut the door.

Twenty minutes later Dean came out feeling more like a person and attacked the box of donuts he hadn't noticed on the table before. "Nice." He pulled out a chocolate covered something and then narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Awesome coffee and donuts? What'd you do?"

Sam laughed. "I'm just trying to get you in a good mood before we have to go hiking."

Dean considered him for a moment and then shrugged, accepting it. "So, what'd you find?"

"I think it's a Makawe. Specifically, an Atua Makawe." Sam turned the laptop around to show Dean. "They're usually found in New Zealand. They're possessing spirits, and I think this Makawe's taken over an elk."

Dean snorted. "Couldn't have picked a bear? This part of Pennsylvania's lousy with black bears. Something respectable?" He waved a hand with his donut. "I take that back. I'd rather be after an elk than a bear."

Sam smirked and nodded. "So, the Makawe likes to force its victims into scalding water." He frowned. "A couple people said it actually spit the water at them, but that's not in the lore. Probably just injured and confused." He tapped the screen and brought a map of Centralia that was mostly covered in red. "Thermal image of the city. The ground temp rarely gets below 180 underground so finding pools of scalding water wouldn't be a problem for the thing."

"Stay away from water. Got it. How do we gank it?" Dean grabbed another donut and eyed the computer screen. It made him a little nervous knowing they were going to be hiking all over a place with a permanent wildfire burning underground. It struck a little close to home and made him twitch.

"We need smithy-forged nails to take it down, eyes and heart, then we have to burn it and scatter the ashes over fallow land." Sam smiled. "Considering Centralia's abandoned, fallow land is easy."

"Wait." Dean raised a hand and looked at him. "What's the difference between smithy-forged nails and your run-of-the-mill nails? I mean, I assume I can't just hit up the local hardware shop for a box of 20d's."

"No. We need…Wait. What's a 20d?" Sam asked suddenly and Dean snorted.

"Two foot nail." Dean shrugged. "Shop class, dude."

"You're a bucket of surprises," Sam laughed. "Anyway, smithy-forged nails are typically iron, and I think the forging process itself has something to do with them being effective." He pulled the laptop back and smiled. "Found a place in the next town over that specializes in artisanal smithing."

"Artisanal? Nope. Never mind. I believe you." Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed another donut. He bit into it and groaned. "Oh, baby…apple filled."

"Need a moment alone?"

"It's like the pie of donuts, Sammy." Dean licked half the filling out of the donut cheerfully until Sam groaned and got up and damn how he had missed that patented bitch face of Sam's with all that real little-brother aggravation behind it.

"I'm gonna go get the nails. You can stay here and…man, I think I need a shower."

Dean laughed Sam out of the room and pulled the box of donuts closer. "Just you and me, babies."

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Sam climbed back into the Impala and set the bag from the hardware store next to the heavy box of nails from the smith's with a smile. Knowing that there were at least several days of grumpy, camping Dean ahead of him, Sam was pulling out all the stops to try and find ways to alleviate it. He patted the hardware store bag and pulled out onto the road. "Dean's gonna love this."

He made the turn to their motel and screeched the breaks, nearly colliding with the tail end of a big rig as it roared past against the light. "Shit!" Sam gasped. He put his head on the steering wheel for a moment once the truck was gone and groaned for how close it had come. "I don't tell him. You don't tell him. Deal? Dean never has to know." Sam sat back up, looked down at the dash and then started to laugh. He shook his head and started on for the motel room again. "Also not telling him that I was talking to his car again." He smiled sadly, remembering all the times he had indeed talked to the Impala in the months Dean had been in hell because it had felt like having some small piece of his big brother around. Dean would have either called him a big girl or danced for joy. Probably both, although he'd deny the dancing for joy part.

Sam snorted and pulled into the motel parking lot, having to go wide around an eighteen-wheeler taking up one length of the parking lot. "Not my day for truckers." He parked and grabbed his bags, grunting a little in pain with the effort of pulling the heavy box of nails up out of the passenger seat, and the bite wound on his back pulled. "Ow." He went to their room and kicked the door with his foot a few times as both his arms were full. "Dean!"

Dean opened the door on his brother's yell and his eyes went wide. "Dude, I thought you went to get nails?" He let Sam and his mound of bags in the room, watching while Sam set them all down on his bed and turned to smile at him.

"Had to pick up a few things." Sam tapped the box. "Got the nails." He pawed through the several bags he had and grabbed one, hefting it up and over to Dean. "You'll like this. For the nails."

Dean took the bag and opened the top, looking in, and a grin spread across his face. "Nice." He pulled out two large battery-operated nail guns and nodded, looking over at Sam with a wide grin. "I get to nail a moose!"

"Elk, moron," Sam laughed and dug through the bags again. He pulled out two leather belts and handed one to Dean. "For the nail guns. The guy at the hardware store said they'll hang off these." He tapped the hooks on the side.

"DIY nail gun holsters." Dean grinned and pulled his around his waist, buckling it in place and then hung the nail gun from his hip. "There's hope for you yet, Toolman."

Sam took out another bag and picked up the box of nails, carrying it over to the table. "Got clips for the nail guns too. I figure we'll load them up and get moving." He shrugged off his jacket and sat, pulling out the first clip.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean went to his brother and tugged the back of his shirt out to look at his shoulder. "How'd you manage to reopen this?"

"Huh?" Sam twisted, trying to get a look and rolled his eyes when Dean held up blood-spotted fingers in front of him. He snorted and tapped the box, flipping the lid off. "Twenty pounds of nails."

Dean rolled his own eyes and went for the first aid kit. "Shirt."

Sam chuckled. "Yes, mom." He pulled his shirts over his head and picked up an empty clip. He supposed he could have made a fuss about Dean mother-henning him and tried to do it himself, but they'd get on the road a lot faster if he just sucked it up and let his brother do what he needed to do to fulfill his take-care-of-Sammy imperative for the moment.

"Got more of that awesome coffee while you were gone and talked to the manager." Dean peeled the blood-spotted bandage off Sam's back and tossed it. He chuckled. "And that is some seriously awesome coffee. He says if we're gonna insist on being stupid tourists, there's a couple old condo buildings on what used to be the west side of town we could use instead of pitching a tent. Said the locals that are left are miles from there, so we won't piss 'em off."

"Sounds good to me." Sam started clicking nails into the empty clip, having to get a feel for the slightly different mechanism and tried to not hunch while Dean cleaned the bite. "We should pack the tent in too, just in case. We can leave it in the building or something."

Dean groaned but agreed and sincerely hoped they wouldn't need to put the damn thing up. At least squatting in an abandoned building, he could tell himself it wasn't really camping. He taped a fresh bandage over Sam's shoulder and did a quick inventory on the kit. It wouldn't do to run out of something critical out there. "Maybe we oughta stock up on burn cream in case Bullwinkle pushes you into a pond."

"How do you know it won't be you?" Sam handed a filled clip over his shoulder and grabbed another, smirking. "And Bullwinkle's a moose, not an elk."

"Whatever, college boy." Dean chuckled and took the clip, slapping it home inside the nail gun. He clicked the safety off and pointed it at the back wall of the room.

"Dean, maybe you shouldn't…" Sam trailed off with a rueful smile and waved a hand. "Knock yourself out," he said as the thud of nails hitting wood paneling from ten feet away filled the room.

Dean grinned and grouped ten nails nice and tight after his first few shots went wide. "Pulls to the left a little. Daddy like."

"Yeah, but the motel manager won't," Sam chuckled.

"Whatever. I can take him. Dude weighs like ninety pounds."

Sam laughed. The manager was a scrawny and very short man, barely over five feet. He watched Dean go to the wall to retrieve the nails and smirked. "Might want to find a pair of pliers. They're quiet, these things," Sam said and picked up his own nail gun. "At least we know the few remaining people living in there won't come running while we're shooting." He set it back and pulled his t-shirt over, then tossed it on top of his blood-stained shirts from last night and went to get a fresh one.

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's suggestion of pliers and stubbornly pulled the nails out with his fingers. "I'm gonna enjoy killing this thing." He smiled and went to help his brother load the rest of the clips.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean walked a few yards from the Impala and turned to look back. "This sucks!" He'd found a spot to pull her off the road and behind some trees, and they had partially screened her from the empty road with branches; partially, because it was nearly November and there weren't any leaves left on the trees. His breath puffed out in front of him as he looked at the tail end of his car and glared over at his chuckling brother.

"Dean, it'll be fine. Come on." Sam hefted his pack higher and went to what passed for a path worn into the ten-foot-high mound of earth across the road. It extended into the trees on either side as far as he could see and made sure no one tried to drive in. He'd hoped the wintry chill in the air would leave once they got there, but so far it was hanging on and he pulled his jacket more tightly around him as he started the climb up.

"I'll be back, baby," Dean told his car, ignoring the snort of laughter from behind him. He resettled the nail gun on his hip and followed his brother, already halfway up the hill. Dean climbed, trying to keep his feet vaguely sideways and not slide back down. In spite of the near-freezing air, the path up the hill was actually muddy, and, as he stumbled and righted himself with a hand, he realized it was warm. He could actually feel unnatural warmth through the mud from the fires raging below. "Damn."

"Dean?"

Dean looked up to find Sam watching him from the top and waved his muddy hand. "I'm good." He climbed the rest of way and purposefully gave Sam his muddy hand to pull him the last couple feet up with a grin for his disgusted face. "Whoa," Dean said as he looked out over the valley.

"Yeah." Sam nodded. It was heavily forested, and, from there, there really wasn't much to see except trees, the cracked and buckled remains of the highway curving sharply away, and smoke that seemed to hang over the valley like a haze. It was ominous.

"Odds are we're not gonna freeze to death in there anyway," Dean said, looking for a bright side and started down the hill with a chuckle. "Just find some mud to roll in. That shit's warm."

Sam snorted and followed him down, mostly keeping his balance until a well-hidden rock turned under his foot and he went down the last six feet, sliding on his ass and landing with a thump with his big brother laughing so hard he was doubled over with his arms wrapped across his stomach. "You…are a jerk."

Dean wiped his eyes and grinned. "Suck it up, bitch. Come on." He took Sam's arm and pulled him to his feet, turning him for a moment to admire the layers of mud collected up his back and over his pack with another laugh.

"Should'a stayed with Bobby," Sam grumbled, brushing clumps of warm mud from his backside while he started down the road.

They followed the cracked, crumpled, and sometimes collapsed blacktop for close to an hour. They had passed through one particularly noxious cloud of smoke and gas that had made them tie bandannas around their faces, preferring to save the gas masks for if they really needed them. They only had a limited life.

Dean raised a hand as he neared a smoking hole in the roadway. It was wide, seven or eight feet, and deep enough he'd have had trouble seeing out of it from the bottom. "You weren't kidding about sinkholes. Damn."

Sam nodded and came up beside him. There was a faint, cherry red glow in the bottom and he shook his head. "Shouldn't stay here." He twitched the cloth over his nose and mouth higher. "Air might be bad."

Dean nodded and pulled his eyes away from what he was sure was someone's blackened bones piled in the bottom, and he wondered how long the poor sucker had been forgotten there. "How much farther until town?"

Sam stopped and dug in his coat for the GPS and map. "Uh…couple miles maybe? Hang on." He pulled out the map and his eyes slid up and to the right, drawn by what, he couldn't have said, but it was just in time to see a large, dark shape move in the tree line. "Dean!"

Dean spun and sucked in a breath as the biggest damn elk he'd ever seen charged out of the trees at him. It was almost coal black with antlers that rose high over his head, gleaming red eyes, and an intricate pattern of lines that ran and whorled across its body. "Holy crap!"

Sam dropped the map and pulled the nail gun off his belt. "Hey!" He shouted, trying to get the creature's attention off his brother to no avail. Dean was nimble on his feet, but he wasn't faster than an elk, and Sam watched him try to dive clear only to be swept by the Makawe's antler across the road. "No!" Sam unloaded iron nails into its side, hoping for its heart, but knew he'd missed when it roared and turned to him. It pawed the blacktop with one hoof, sending sparks from each strike while smoke poured from its nostrils. "Dean?"

"Ow."

Sam rolled his shoulders out and fired more nails at the Makawe's head. He took out one eye and the beast threw its antlered head back on a pain-filled roar. Sam lowered the nail gun to go for the heart again and gasped as blue, almost black, smoke poured out of the elk's mouth into the air.

"Dammit!" Sam yelled and circled the creature as the spirit left it. He made his way to his brother and knelt where Dean still rolled on the ground. "You alright?"

Dean sucked in a ragged breath and nodded, trying to lie still on his back and get his eyes open at the same time. "Antler…stomach…crap that hurt." He gave a breathless little laugh and let Sam ease him up so he was sitting. He looked over at the now silent and crumpled elk. "Dude…you got it?" He was a little disappointed that he wouldn't get to use his nail gun.

Sam shook his head. "It smoked out." He ran a hand through his hair. "Looked an awful lot like a demon. It'll be looking for…" He stopped as a loud roar sounded far too close for comfort. "…a new body. That doesn't sound good."

"Up. Help me up." Dean was driven now. "Hurry." He let Sam pull him to his feet and worked to ignore the still burning pain in his stomach from the hit he'd taken. "Get in the trees."

"Dean, what?" Sam kept the nail gun in his hand and walked backward to the trees with Dean next to him.

"I know that roar," Dean told him and had been hoping this wouldn't happen. "There's only one other big predator in these parts, Sam. Remember?"

Sam's eyes widened. He nodded and looked across the road as they reached the edge, and, opposite them, a disturbingly large bear burst from the trees. Its eyes were red, and, as they watched, the spiral lines of the Makawe spread out through its hair all over its body. "Not good."

"Guess it…didn't need anything more…more fearsome than an elk 'til we pissed it off." Dean pulled his brother's arm. "Move. Into the trees. We'll never outrun it…on the road." He raised his own nail gun as the bear stalked over the cement and, much to his dismay, was careful to stay on all fours and keep its chest and heart out of the direct line of fire.

"I hate it when they get smart," Sam groaned and stayed at Dean's elbow, steadying him while he wheezed to get his breath back and the massive black bear paced them as though it were toying with them. He tried to find the thicker stands of trees to put between them, and, as he went wide and away from Dean around one tree…Sam realized the Makawe's interest was fixed on him. "Of course," Sam said softly. He'd shot it. He was the one it was pissed at. He took a look at his big brother who was leaning on a tree and hunched over his stomach and swallowed hard. Dean was in no condition to run from anything just then…but Sam could.

Dean glanced over at his little brother and saw the intent a second before it happened. "Sam, don't you dare!" Dean shouted, and then Sam was off at a sprint into the trees with the Makawe's new body crashing along after him. "Son of a bitch!"

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

_To Be Continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sam heard his brother's angry shout and used it to spur him on. Wisps of steam and smoke curled through the trees on the late morning, chill breeze, and Sam yanked the handkerchief off his face as it seemed to smother him while he ran. He could hear the bear crashing behind him and coming closer. He used a tree to swing himself to the right and change direction quickly, the palm of his hand tearing under the bark, and put on another burst of speed. Sam spared a glance over his shoulder and saw the Makawe-possessed bear slam into a tree and roar in frustration.

Sam smiled, thinking this might actually work. He slowed slightly at the base of a hill and hastily shoved the straps of his pack off his shoulders, letting it thud onto the warm ground. He tightened his grip on his nail gun and started up the incline. He looked back and the Makawe was following his circuitous route through the trees. Sam stopped and braced himself on a tree. He swung his nail gun up and frowned…the Makawe was nowhere in sight.

"What the hell?" Sam whispered and scanned the trees hurriedly. He could hear Dean yelling for him and knew he was going to have hell to pay for this little stunt. "Come on. Where are you?" Sam moved out from the tree and took a few steps back down the hill, gun at the ready. Sam froze as hot breath flooded the back of his neck, and he closed his eyes for just a second with the realization of how incredibly, royally screwed he was. He blew out a breath and turned, letting himself fall backward down the hill. Sam brought the nail gun around and fired as the Makawe, a mere foot behind him, swiped out with one massive paw and left a burning trail across his left shoulder that made him shout in pain.

Dean scrambled around a copse of trees and looked up the hill in time to see his brother standing with the Makawe at his back, so close on top of him it dried the spit in his mouth and dropped the bottom out of his stomach. His heart skipped a beat with the sudden, sure knowledge that he was about to watch his little brother be torn apart before his eyes…and then Sam was moving, spinning, the dull pop-pop of the nail gun being fired and his brother's voice crying out as he fell through the air toward the bottom of the hill.

"SAM!" Dean jerked into motion and made himself watch the creature, not his brother. Watch the threat, Dean; their father had drilled it into him. You can fix shit later, but only if you're alive. He watched the creature topple to its back and roar in a rage and then roll to its feet and take off up the hill and away from them.

"Sammy?" Dean called and grimaced as his brother slapped into the ground on his back and slid the last few feet to the bottom to lie still. "Shit!" He slid to his knees next to him and tried not to panic at the blood on his left shoulder around the long tears in his jacket. Dean put a hand on his brother's good shoulder as Sam's eyes suddenly shot open and he sucked in a long breath, then curled onto his side around Dean's knees, coughing, and Dean's world snapped back into focus.

"Take it easy, Sammy." Dean ran his fingers through a splash of blood on his brother's jaw and throat and breathed out in relief to find it was only cast off from his shoulder. Dean looked back up the hill, but the Makawe seemed to have had enough of them for the moment. He bent back to Sam and tried to get a look at the damage. "Gimme this arm." He pulled carefully until Sam let him uncurl it from his stomach.

"S'alright," Sam said and coughed, though he didn't make an effort to move aside from letting Dean have his arm. "Think…s'just…wind knocked outta me."

Dean nodded. He'd seen the way Sam hit the ground, flat on his back. "Surprised you didn't knock yourself out cold." He pulled Sam's ruined jacket away from his shoulder and grimaced. "Ok; we gotta get somewhere I can take care of this and not get eaten while we do it. You stand?"

Sam took a minute to assess himself. His shoulder burned, his back hurt, and the fall had been hard enough he was fighting the urge to throw up on his brother's knees while still trying to gasp in a full breath. He decided he wasn't too bad, considering, and finally nodded. "Probably." He looked at his jacket and down at the blood on his legs and smirked. "Not…not all mine."

"Huh?" Dean wrapped an arm around his back and slowly brought him to his feet. "The blood?"

Sam nodded and then blinked in surprise to find he was still clutching the nail gun in his right hand. "Hit it…chest." He coughed and bent over Dean's arm to wheeze in a few breaths while his back protested. "Think…got it near the hear…heart. Crap."

"Yeah, you're beat up." Dean smiled in relief and pride that Sam had given as good as he got. He'd save the ass-kicking he still owed him for later, when he was sure his little brother was in one piece.

"Pack." Sam pointed over to the left.

Dean waited for Sam to straighten and let him go long enough to grab his pack and sling it over one shoulder with a soft grunt for the extra weight. "Ok. Let's go." He took his brother's arm to steady him as they started back the way they'd come.

"You ok?" Sam asked.

Dean snorted and shook his head. "Dude, I'm fine. I could'a taken Bullwinkle."

Sam laughed and bent over a little as pain shot through his shoulder. "Don't…don't make me laugh. Ow."

"Well, now I'm just gonna be spending all this time walkin' into town thinking up stupid jokes to tell you." Dean grinned at his brother's pale, blood-spotted face while he laughed and wheezed. He hoped if he could keep him talking, Sam would stay on his feet until they found shelter, because blood was still seeping from the wounds in his shoulder, and eventually, the kid was going to fall down and stay there for a while.

Dean got them back to the road, and, against his better judgment, went back onto the blacktop. Sam's feet were starting to drag, and it'd be easier on him than going over uneven ground in the forest. An hour long down the road and Dean was ready to just find a damn bush to hide them under when he saw the roof of a tall building over the trees to their left.

"'Bout damn time," Dean groaned and jostled his brother against his side. "Sammy. Come on, dude. You gotta move your feet." Sam was pretty much sleepwalking at that point with his shoulders hunched and head hanging down Dean's chest. "Sam."

"M'ere," Sam mumbled and had to focus harder than he thought he should to get his legs moving again. He hadn't realized he'd stopped. He remembered thinking he needed to walk on his own because his brother was stuck with both heavy packs. and then…and then everything had become sort of foggy. "Sorry."

"No big deal, buddy. Just a little further." Dean was exhausted all on his own from lugging two heavy packs, a semi-conscious little brother, and the bruises he knew were coming up on his stomach from the antlers. He aimed Sam across the road and into the trees as the road looked like it curved away from the building ahead. "Think we found the condo building…the motel manager mentioned. Almost there."

Sam put everything he had left, and it wasn't much, into getting his head up and lifting his feet when they went off the crumpled pavement into the trees. He could see the white of a building beginning to peak out through the trunks, and, as they neared, he saw graffiti scrawled over the walls. His quickly fogging mind wondered how they'd managed to paint so high up, twenty feet in the air on a blind wall, as they broke through the trees, and he would have gone over backwards trying to look up if not for Dean.

"Dude, head down," Dean chuckled and snorted when Sam's glassy eyes rolled over to him and then closed. The condo building they were headed for looked more or less intact, not counting all the empty window frames. The building next to it had been half demolished, and the floors and framework stood open like the carcass of some long-dead dinosaur. Between the two buildings stood an old fountain with a wide pool of water inset in the ground around it. Steam rose lazily from the murky water into the air and Dean frowned, not particularly comfortable with having Makawe's chosen weapon so close at hand.

"No, no, no. Sammy, stay on your feet," Dean pleaded when Sam started to slump, but, to his relief, Sam nodded slowly and got his legs under him again. "That's it, buddy. Little further."

"Keep…you keep…sayin' that," Sam mumbled with what almost sounded like a drunken slur and a chuckle. "Keep not…gettin' there."

Dean rolled his eyes as they stumbled into the shadow of the building and found a door. "Keep givin' me crap, your gigantor ass can sleep in the fountain." He ignored the amused, albeit exhausted, snort that earned him and kicked in the door that was already hanging askew in the frame. The hall was dark, cut with dusty beams of light from open doors, and there was a flight of stairs down the right-hand side. "Ok, Sam. Here we go. One flight of stairs."

Sam groaned as they walked, and would have put a hand out to keep himself upright if his left arm was obeying anymore. He nodded. He wanted nothing more than to drop right there and not move for a week, but he understood. They'd have a more defensible position on the second floor. His resolve lasted precisely until Dean turned them to face the stairs and Sam looked up the long flight. A wave of vertigo washed over him, his head spun, and the last thing he heard was his brother's aggravated voice calling his name.

"Dammit, Sam!" Dean groaned and went to his knees with his brother as Sam's legs gave out. "Shit." He hastily let his brother's pack slide off to the floor and pulled him so he could see his face, laying his fingers over the thankfully steady pulse in his neck. "Ok. You did good, Sammy. All the way to the building." Dean eased him back to rest against the bottom of the stairs and grabbed the pack up again. He jogged quickly up the two flights to the second floor, dropped Sam's pack and his own and went back down, loathe to leave him alone for more than a minute.

"Can't believe you're gonna make me carry your heavy ass," Dean grumbled but with no real heat. He was too worried to actually be angry with him. He pulled Sam back up and then bent, getting his brother's absurdly long frame over his shoulders with a groan of effort and started up the stairs. "Maybe…should'a stayed…on the ground floor."

Dean resisted the urge to just set his brother down at the top of the stairs and carried him down the hall, fighting exhaustion, until he found a room that worked for him. It looked like it had been a utility room for the building once upon a time with several empty buckets shoved in a corner, a defunct washing machine, a pile of dusty furniture blankets and shelves. There was a window high up on the wall, letting in the murky sunlight, and a door that, when Dean cracked it open, looked like it ran down to the first floor and its own exit.

"This'll work." Dean went slowly to his knees and leaned his brother against the wall. He took a moment to hunch over his aching stomach. He straightened and patted Sam's leg. "Don't go anywhere."

Dean went out and back down the hall to get their packs and brought them back to the room. He pushed the hall door shut, dropped the packs, and shoved the washing machine over in front of it. He took the empty shelves and dragged them across to the other door, and, with a little work, got them wedged so no one could open the door from the outside, at least not without him knowing.

He grabbed Sam's pack and dug the camp light out of it, along with the first aid kit, set them next to him, and then took a couple of the furniture blankets from the floor and shook them out. "Ok, buddy." Dean folded one blanket up and slid behind his brother's head and sat on his left side. He leaned back on the wall for a minute and let his head drop back while he caught his breath. "You are one heavy…pain in the ass, Sammy," Dean said ruefully, smirked and leaned over to switch on the camp lantern. The bright light filled the room, and he started the job of working his brother's jacket off his left shoulder. It was stiff with dried blood, but the shirts under were still damp with it over the wounds.

Sam woke with a start and a gasp at the pain in his shoulder. "Dean?"

"Expecting someone else?" Dean asked with a smirk and pressed a hand into his brother's chest to keep him from getting up. "Think you're gonna need some stitches here."

"Awesome." Sam groaned and rolled his head over to watch, blinking in the glare from the lantern while Dean cut a hole in his already slashed shirt. "I liked that shirt."

Dean snorted. "Not anymore, dude."

Sam looked over and watched the concentration on his brother's face while he cleaned away the blood from the wounds and sighed. "Dean, I'm sorry."

"Not in the mood, Sammy," Dean warned him.

"I just…I knew you couldn't run right then, and…ow!" Sam yelped at a particularly sharp pain as Dean pressed a wad of gauze over the slashes.

Dean glared at his brother. "You ever pull that Lone Ranger crap on me again, I will kick your ass! It could have killed you!"

"It could have killed _you_!" Sam fired back and groaned as it sent pain running up his abused back and into his shoulder. He swallowed hard and met his brother's still angry eyes. "When…are you going to get that I am every bit as…as STUPID about protecting you as you are of me?"

Dean stared angrily at him, but he couldn't hold onto it, especially not when he saw the first twitch up of his brother's mouth. The simple truth of that statement hit him, and he dropped his head with a snort as Sam started to chuckle. "I'm still pissed at you."

Sam nodded and let his head rest against the wall. "Day's not complete…'til I piss you off." He grinned.

"Well, your day's definitely done now, genius." Dean shook his head and pulled out the suture kit.

Sam took a breath and worked to not twitch while Dean starting putting sutures in the front of his shoulder. "We pissed it off."

"You pissed it off," Dean retorted and that both amused and worried him, because that damn creature had gone straight for his brother. "Obviously, big, hairy, and ugly holds a grudge. No more ditching me in a fit of self-sacrificing stupid, you hear me?"

Sam nodded and smirked. "Don't worry. Not doing that again…it kinda sucked."

Dean chuckled and tied off a fourth stitch. The slashes over Sam's shoulder weren't actually that bad. Oh, he was sure they were damn painful and they'd bled enough, but they were shallow, except for a couple spots. His concern was being able to keep them clean and infection free in this hell-hole. "Get comfy. We're not going anywhere else tonight."

Sam frowned over at him. "It's barely seven o'clock, Dean."

"Yeah; and this time of year, the daylight's gonna be gone in less than an hour." Dean finished a last stitch, cleaned the slashes again, and taped a bandage in place. He tugged his own pack over and pulled one of the blankets free of the strap. "Stay put." He spread it over Sam and stood with a groan, rubbing his stomach. "Gotta go make sure Bullwinkle can't sneak up on us in here."

"It's in a bear now, Dean." Sam chuckled, and, as much as he wanted to get up and help, his body wasn't obeying him. Blood loss, he figured.

Dean shoved the washing machine away from the door and stuck his head out, finding it clear. "Doesn't mean it won't smoke back into a moose at some point."

"Elk, Dean. Geez." Sam groaned at his brother's laugh and tried to relax as he slipped out of the room. "Why do I argue?"

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Sam woke and blinked his eyes open. The camp lantern was hanging from a wire dangling from the ceiling illuminating the small room, and he looked over to find his brother next to him, nail gun in his lap and obviously dozed off. He smirked and straightened, biting off the hiss of pain when he moved his shoulder. He looked around the room and tried to quietly ease off the wall. He stopped when he heard something outside.

"Dean." Sam whispered it, but it was enough. His big brother's eyes snapped open, hand tightening around the nail gun. Sam gestured to the window over them.

Dean nodded and got to his feet. He rolled his eyes and took the hand Sam held up, pulling him up as well. Then he went to the window and peered out into the night. There wasn't much to see. Only slivers of moonlight made it through the cloud cover, but Dean caught something large and dark as it moved in the ruined hulk of the next building.

Sam's eyes widened as he looked out the window. The Makawe must have tracked them…tracked him. He looked down at his left shoulder and over to his brother, brows rising to ask if he thought it had followed the smell of his blood.

Dean shrugged. "Doesn't really matter," he said softly, in case the thing had sensitive hearing. "It's here now."

Sam nodded. "Lure it in or go out after it?"

Dean considered and looked out the window again. "Lure it…" He broke off as a flicker of orange light came from the other building. "What the hell?"

Sam moved so he could see and frowned. "Is that…a fire?"

"Looks like it." Dean watched as the flame went out on the third floor and reappeared on the first. Like the other, that flame snuffed out as well, leaving both men confused. "What the hell's going on?"

"I don't know. Makawe's aren't supposed to have control of fire, at least not according to the lore." Sam's head jerked back a little as flame erupted in the waters of the fountain between the two buildings. It rose up in a column, lighting the night, and, as they moved and danced, he saw a form within them. "No," He breathed.

"No way." Dean stared at the pillar of fire in the fountain and saw the same figure. "No way, dude. We killed that thing!" He stared while his mouth went dry. "We are so screwed."

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

_To Be Continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This is the point where, if you haven't read my older story "Playing With Fire"…you'll probably want too. You won't miss anything critical but hey, who doesn't enjoy Sam breaking his arm heroically? :P URL in the AN in chapter 1.
> 
> Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D– Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.
> 
> **Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!  
> ~Reviews are Love~

**Chapter 4**

Sam couldn't tear his eyes away from the play of what he knew now was living flame. His right hand unconsciously crept to his left arm, rubbing at a sudden ache of the memory of bones breaking amidst a backdrop of fear and flames, and he knew Dean was remembering it too.

"But…the whole warehouse burnt down with it," Sam said softly.

Dean nodded and tried to accept that they had somehow screwed up…that he had screwed up. "This is not good. Maybe it's a different fire demon?"

Sam shook his head. He didn't know how, but he was sure. "No."

_-0-0-0-_

_**Seven years ago…** _

_They ran. There wasn't much else they could do with a pissed off_ _fire d_ _emon about to go nuclear on them. "MOVE IT, SAM!" Dean bellowed and gave his little brother a shove ahead of him as the heat behind grew uncomfortable. Any minute now the warehouse was going to be gone with them in it. They pounded over the rickety steel floors, dodging gaping holes and hanging girders. It had been abandoned so long, it was literally falling apart all on its own. Sam jumped a gap in the plate floor ahead, Dean right behind him. They landed, rolled, and got back to their feet arrowing for the stairs in the far corner._

_Dean felt a rush of air sweep past them, behind them, and felt his stomach drop. "Too late." He muttered and grunted as a wall of heat and hell exploded behind them and slammed into his back, throwing him forward into his brother._

_Sam's chest was burning for oxygen, but there was no time to stop; no time to even take a breath. They were going to die if they couldn't reach those stairs. He rolled to his feet after a jump and spared a look back to see Dean right behind him. He turned back and put on more speed as air began to rush past him, and he knew they were out of time. Another gaping panel loomed in the floor ahead of them, several chains hanging from the ceiling somewhere above, and Sam readied himself for another jump as the world exploded behind him._

_He felt the superheated air slam into his back a second before Dean smashed into him and they were both thrown toward the hole in the floor. Tumbling, Sam reached one desperate arm out making contact with one of the heavy chains. He managed to wrap his arm once as they fell through the floor, fire and shrapnel flying above them with deadly speed. He felt Dean's body brush against him and slapped his right arm out, finding Dean's arm and grasping him firmly. The chain snapped taught around Sam's arm, ripping a scream from his ai_ _r-s_ _tarved lungs, and he struggled to keep his grip on his brother as stars exploded across his vision, blackness threatening to take him._

_"Dean!"_

_-0-0-0-_

Sam shook his head slowly and knew this was the same fire demon. Somehow it was. "You said the whole warehouse went up with it." He had only the vaguest memory of everything that happened after the explosion.

"It did!" Dean said in dismay. "Dude, the whole damn building imploded!" And it had. He'd watched it collapse in after the fire demon had blown itself apart.

_-0-0-0-_

_**Seven years ago…** _

_Dean dropped his chin to his chest and took a deep breath. "That was too close." He said softly and looked back up to where the flames were still billowing. Bits of char were floating down from the floor above, the steel of the floor above them creaking from the heat. "Just let me do all the work, Sam." Dean wrapped his arms around his brothers chest and pulled him to his feet where he swayed, almost toppling them both. Dean pulled Sam's good arm across his shoulders._

_"Dean?" Sam raised his head a fraction, searching for green eyes and sighing in relief when he found them. "Hey."_

_Dean snorted a laugh. "Hey yourself. Come on, Sasquatch. Time to go." He got them moving in a stuttering walk, stopping every few steps to orient Sam and let his legs stop shaking. To anyone on the outside, they would have appeared drunk, stumbling home from an all-night binge. They reached a set of double doors, and Dean reared back and kicked them open with a crash, revealing the moonlit street outside._

_They emerged from the warehouse and reached the other side of the street moments before the upper floors finally lost integrity from the heat of the fire and collapsed inward with a mighty crash. The shock wave pushed both men into the side of the Impala. Dean managed to keep them upright and spent a few shocked moments watching the warehouse fall in on itself._

_"Damn; we almost got deep fried, Sammy." Dean blew out a breath. "You're goin' to the hospital, dude." Dean said to the lolling dark head under his chin and wrenched the passenger door open. He maneuvered Sam into the seat, picking_ _up_ _and folding his long legs in before shutting the door and running around to the drive_ _r's_ _side. He gave one last look at the fiery warehouse and wondered if they'd be chasing the fire demon again someday or if they'd really destroyed it._

_-0-0-0-_

"Dad would kick my ass," Dean muttered softly and shook his head. He should have made sure. He stopped short of asking himself why he hadn't with a glance over at his little brother who was, even now, rubbing a hand along his left arm like he could feel the break again. That's why he hadn't; Sam had been more important, and the kid had damn near permanently maimed himself saving them both.

"Ok. This is…we can do this," Sam nodded to himself. "We didn't know anything about demons back then. Not real demons," he said ruefully. "We sure as hell do now." He watched the figure in the flames, and his brows rose when the Makawe came out of the shadows to pace around the fiery fountain. The large bear walked around the fountain, looking up at the demon periodically, and it struck him suddenly that they weren't acting like enemies. "Holy crap."

"Dude…did Bullwinkle make a friggin' friend?" Dean asked as he watched what was clearly two creatures greeting each other. He shook his head in disbelief as the flames dropped away and the Makawe huffed out a breath at the now bubbling water before it stepped in and rolled like it was a personal sauna.

Sam blinked a few times, processing what they had just seen. "Well…they wouldn't make natural enemies, would they? Huh."

Dean shook his head. "Come on. Help me move this." He went to the shelves and gestured until his brother took the other side. "Quietly." Together they lifted them out of the way with barely a sound and set them aside. "This door goes right out to that courtyard." Dean went back to the window and looked out, relieved to see the creature still enjoying itself in the demon-powered hot tub. He looked back at his brother. "You go down and wait while I come around the other side."

Sam nodded. "It's distracted in the fountain."

"Yep. Let's nail this thing." He grinned when Sam rolled his eyes and went to the other door, quickly lifting and moving the old washing machine just enough to let him out. Dean turned and looked back over at his brother. "Don't go early, jackass."

Sam snorted. "Would you just hurry before it decides to leave?" He laughed softly as Dean flipped him off and slipped out of the room. Sam opened his own door and started silently down the flight of stairs. He tried rolling his shoulder and grimaced at the tug and burn of the slashes there. He put the pain and the fire demon out of his thoughts for the moment as he reached the bottom of the stairs and the door there. One problem at a time. He just hoped the Makawe's fiery pal would cooperate with that plan and stay gone for a while.

The door had a window that had long been destroyed by nature or vandals, and Sam watched where he put his feet, careful not to crunch any broken glass in the dust. He peeked out of the open window and saw the Makawe still in the fountain. It lay on its back in the water, wriggling as though enjoying the heat of the water the fire demon had set to boiling while steam rose up around it like a cloud. Sam felt the corners of his mouth twitch up in spite of himself at the absurdity of the sight of the powerful, supernatural being acting like it was enjoying a day at the spa, in the form of a bear, no less. That definitely fell into the "there's something you don't see every day" category, and he shook his head slightly and refocused on the job.

Sam gave the door an experimental pull and smiled as the grass and weeds that had grown up around its base made it noiseless as he moved it. He eased it open just enough to make room for himself and pulled the nail gun from his hip. He was barely fifteen feet from the fountain and the creature which gave him the best chance of reaching it before it saw anything. Sam slipped slowly out of the door and looked to his left, waiting to see his brother.

Dean jogged to the far end of the building and climbed out through a broken out window. He spared a glance for the ruined building across from him, relieved to not see any fires. The last thing they needed was the damn fire demon reappearing. He eased over to the corner of the building and peered around to find the Makawe still in the fountain, thirty feet or so away, and his brother, dark against the white of the building, just sliding out of the door. Dean raised a hand and motioned to the fountain and smiled when Sam flicked his fingers back at him in acknowledgement.

He started across the muddy grass, footsteps silent, and kept his eyes fixed on the Makawe's head that was thankfully angled away from the building. He picked up his pace, wanting to reach the fountain at the same moment his brother did and inwardly was not at all happy that Sam was far closer.

Sam brought the nail gun up and watched the creature lounging on its back. He glanced across at Dean, now able to see his face in the moonlight. Sam tapped his left hand to his chest to let his brother know he was going to try for the heart and saw Dean nod and point at his own eyes. Sam turned back to the fountain and the Makawe. The creature let its legs slap down into the water and Sam barely managed not to groan in pain as the still boiling water splashed out and over his right leg up to his knee.

Dean saw Sam stumble a step as the water hit him and scowled, but his brother stayed on his feet and kept moving. He waited until Sam reached the edge of the fountain. He brought his nail gun up and aimed. "Hey, ugly!" Dean yelled and, as he'd hoped, the Makawe rolled its head back in surprise to look at him. He fired at an eye, the nail piercing it easily, and shot out the other while the creature roared. Blinded, the Makawe reared up off its back and clawed at its eyes.

Sam fired into the bear's chest as it roared and danced away from a swinging arm. He sent three more nails into the area where he hoped its heart was, relieved that it couldn't see him. The bear's roar was failing, and Sam saw a curl of dark smoke emerge from its mouth.

"Crap!" Sam shouted. "It's trying to smoke out again!"

"Dammit." Dean ran around its side and swung a leg out, kicking the Makawe's gaping jaw closed with a snap. "Get the damn heart already!"

"I'm trying!" Sam shouted back and took a step closer, firing more nails into the beast's chest. He stumbled back as the Makawe suddenly reared up again and opened its mouth. But rather than smoke, it spewed steaming water at him, drenching his chest and down his right leg with the super-heated liquid as he tried to stagger back out of range.

Dean shouted angrily and then watched as the Makawe fell back into the fountain and went still. "Sammy?"

Sam stumbled backward and landed on his butt in the warm, muddy grass with a groan. "I'm ok." He wasn't, of course, but Dean didn't need to know that just then. He needed to stay focused and make sure the creature was truly dead, and Sam struggled to keep the searing pain to himself so as not to distract his brother, knowing a moment's inattention at this point could be fatal and that nothing distracted Dean like Sam being hurt.

Dean approached the creature warily and watched its bloody chest. It was no longer rising and falling, and he hoped that meant it was dead. Both the eyes were burst with his nails pointing macabrely out of the sockets. Sam's nails, a tight cluster of nine or ten, pierced its chest and Dean grinned.

"One dead Bullwinkle." Still, Dean backed away from the beast to his brother before he looked down. "How bad'd it get you?"

Sam was sitting, half hunched over his leg and trying to decide if it would hurt more to curl forward or lay back. His chest and leg were sopping, and he could still see steam rising from his clothes and feel the burn along his skin like it was alive.

"Sam?" Dean's worry rose up higher when his brother didn't answer him. "How bad?"

Sam shook his head, gritting his teeth. "Bad," he whispered at last and slammed his eyes closed.

Dean dropped to his knees next to him and tried to straighten him out. "Let me look, Sam." He could hear his little brother's ragged breaths and the steam rising from him concerned him more. Dean pulled Sam's jacket out of the way, tugged up the hem of his shirts with a curse for the wet fabric as it burned his fingers like it was aflame. "Shit." He pulled out his flashlight and shone it down and wished he hadn't. Sam's stomach was the angry red of third degree burns with massive blisters even then swelling as he watched. "Oh, god, Sammy," Dean whispered as real fear sank into him and he let the shirts drop back down.

"Town," Sam ground out between his teeth around the pain and took hold of Dean's arm. "Metal smith."

"What? Help me out here, dude." Dean slid an arm behind Sam's trembling back and waited him out.

Sam swallowed hard and took a couple deep breaths, trying to get a handle on the agony. "Need…to find a forge. Metal smith. Same thing." He groaned and didn't care if he was leaving the imprint of his hand on Dean's arm. "Need the…the cooling bucket for…fill it…with water."

"Ok, got six buckets upstairs, dude," Dean reminded him, confused by the strange request; wondering if delirium was already setting in and Sam shook his head.

"Like the nails…needs to be…from a forge." Sam couldn't stop the whimper that crawled out of him when he tried to straighten and sit up. His skin felt like it was on fire; it was so much worse than just being scalded. "Trust me." Sam knew he was right…well, his now fevered mind hoped he was right because it felt as though he'd been drenched in lava and he wasn't sure how long he could last.

Dean sighed. What was left of the town was almost a mile away. "This is gonna suck, dude."

Sam nodded. "I know." He got his eyes open enough to look at the Makawe's body. "Can leave me…upstairs. You go…"

"No way in hell, Sam," Dean said fiercely. "That fire demon is still out here somewhere, and it already almost killed us once. We stay together." He knew the walk was going to be a misery for his brother, but he couldn't leave him. He wouldn't. "Come on. Let's get you on your feet."

Though he tried not to, Sam cried out as Dean levered him up and held onto him, gasping for breath as he fought to just stay conscious. "Not goin'…back up the…the stairs."

Dean leaned him against the side of the condo building beside the door. "Just wait here. Two minutes."

Sam nodded and locked his knees while he leaned against the wall to stay on his feet as Dean vanished into the door and up the stairs. He hoped he was right about the cooling bucket from a forge. It wasn't even lore so much as an educated guess on his part, but the nails had worked… Sam looked over again at the dead Makawe and felt sorry for the bear as he had for the elk; harmless creatures possessed and turned into monsters. He understood that feeling and couldn't help but sympathize. His head swam with pain from the burns down his body, and he awkwardly tugged his shirts up with his right arm to let the winter-chilled night air hit his stomach even as he shivered with its touch. The cold on top of the burn tickled at something in the back of his mind, some memory that terrified him down to his toes.

"Sam!" Dean had a firm grip of his brother's shoulders and shook him, letting his back thump into the wall. He'd come back down with their packs to find him with his eyes closed, and Sam hadn't answered him when he'd tried to talk to him. "Don't you do this again! Sam!"

Sam's eyes snapped open as he gasped in a breath, feeling a little dazed and stared at his brother. The surprise of his head hitting the wall behind him and Dean's voice had brought him out of wherever he had started to go, and, from the look on Dean's face, it hadn't been good. "Dean."

"Shit, Sammy." Dean gentled his grip on his shoulders and took a good look at him. "What'd I say about poking at the damn wall?"

Sam shook his head. "Wasn't. I wasn't. I…the cold and…burning…"

Dean shook him again as his voice started to drift off and was two seconds away from slapping him when Sam finally met his eyes again. "I get it. I do. But you do not wanna go there. You know that."

"Yeah." Sam nodded.

"Focus on the pain," Dean told him and knew it must have sounded like a ridiculous thing to say, but he also knew sometimes pain was the only thing that could keep the memories of time spent in hell from eating you alive. He just hoped he never had to explain that to Sam. "You ready?"

Sam managed a short, pained roll of his eyes. "No. Let's…let's go."

Dean eased him off the wall and tried to slide Sam's right arm over his shoulders, but his brother gave a choked cry and pulled his arm down. "Sam?"

"Burns," Sam gasped.

"Shit." Dean settled for taking a firm grip under his shoulder and holding him upright that way. He started Sam moving, and it was a struggle to keep him walking as he seemed determined to curl over himself.

"Hate it…when the lore…misses stuff," Sam groaned softly with a miserable, soft laugh.

Dean nodded in understanding. He knew his brother's research skills and respected them, so if Sam hadn't found that a Makawe could spit scalding water, it wasn't there to find. They had been walking through the forest for a half hour along a road so long disused it looked more like a green trail when an explosion echoed from behind them. They staggered to a stop and turned as flames rose up over the tops of the trees, and Dean whistled softly.

"You think our buddy, the fire demon, found out we ganked its friend?" Dean asked.

Sam watched the flames rise up, glowing in the night, and, distantly, the roar filtered through the trees. "Just in case…we didn't make it…mad enough the first time."

"Awesome," Dean groaned and turned them back around. "Let's keep moving. You doing alright?" He rolled his eyes. "I mean, considering."

Sam nodded when he wanted to shake his head and beg to just be left to curl up on his own. Every step was a new level of misery with the burns on his chest, stomach, and leg. Even the slashes in his shoulder were putting up their own opinion of his being on his feet, and his head was starting to swim with pain and exhaustion.

"Think maybe…got an idea…" Sam trailed off with a moan and had to squeeze his eyes shut until the wave of pain eased. "…get the fire demon for real this time."

"Good." Dean steadied Sam with his arm and tried not to let the fear overcome him with how obviously hurt he was. There was no easy out to a hospital that didn't involve hours of walking. "Just keep moving. We'll figure it out once we get you patched up."

"Locals're gon'…gonna be pissed," Sam staggered into his brother and then righted himself, forcing his right leg to keep moving. "Think they're…awful fond…of that church."

Dean chuckled and shook his head. "You wanna blow it up?"

Sam shook his head. "Fire demon."

"Right." Dean pulled him along and blinked a few times, realizing he was seeing lights through the trees. "Well, it's not like the Big Guy's in the house anymore anyway. They'll live." He kept them walking, aiming for the lights in the distance, unaware of the small sparks of flame that began to fan out in the forest behind them…searching.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

_To Be Continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Dean pulled Sam to a stop outside the small cluster of buildings and grabbed his head, tilting it up so he could see him. "Sammy?"

Sam struggled up out of the fog of pain and nodded. Only Dean's non-stop encouragements had gotten him that far and, now that they had stopped…his legs decided they were done, and he went down hard with a strangled cry as his right knee bent and renewed the agony in his leg.

"Shit!" Dean grabbed hold of him and managed to turn and pull until he had Sam's legs stretched out. "Ok, buddy. You know which house we need? Sam?"

Sam nodded again and opened his eyes to look out. He'd studied the aerial surveys of the remaining town and its ten inhabitants. He took a moment to rein in his scattering thoughts and then got his right arm up to point. "S'down…on the left. Looks like…like a barn."

"Ok." Dean watched Sam's eyes close and his face scrunch up in pain again, and he sighed. He dropped Sam's pack next to him and slipped off his own and gently pulled until he had his brother lying with his head and shoulders supported on his pack. "I'm gonna go find this cooling bucket of yours. You're gonna stay right here." He frowned when all Sam did was nod, not even attempting to argue. That alone told him how bad it was, as if his brother's bloodless face and clearly rising temperature weren't enough. He tapped Sam's forehead with his knuckles. "No being jeopardy-friendly while I'm gone."

Sam let out a soft laugh at that and cracked his eyes enough to see Dean. "No…no problem."

"Alright." Dean watched him a moment longer and then stood. "Cooling bucket and fill it with water, right?" Sam gave him another nod and he sighed. "Back in five." Dean jogged off, against his better judgment, through the quiet collection of houses, leaving Sam behind. There was no way to carry him with the burns on his body. He'd gotten a good look at them via flashlight at one point and had dug out his cell phone to call for help only to find that there was no cell service in the valley. He shouldn't have been surprised, he figured, in a place that had been evacuated over twenty years before.

Dean crossed the street, little more than a packed dirt road, and saw the roof of the barn over a rise. He picked up his pace, wanting to return to his brother with the bucket as fast as possible. Sam obviously had some hope that it was going to help the burns, and he just hoped he was right, because Sam…he was not in good shape. He was in dire, must-get-to-a-hospital-now shape, if Dean was honest with himself. He forced himself not to think about what would happen with no phone, no car, and no way of getting Sam out of there that didn't involve making matters worse. The burns were bad….really bad, and he knew that if shock set in and wasn't treated…..no; no way was he letting his mind go in that particular direction.

He topped the rise and slid down the side to the back of the small barn. Seeing no lights inside, Dean went to a small door and tried it. He scowled, finding it padlocked and decided to try the window instead. The slope of the hill made it easy to reach, and he leaned out against the frame, giving it a tentative push with his hand, grinning when it moved.

"Nice," Dean whispered and shoved it open all the way. He pushed in head first and groaned as the windowsill pressed into his already abused stomach. "Crap," Dean gasped and slithered into the barn, dropping to the floor where he just sat for a minute waiting for his stomach to stop complaining. He straightened slowly and took out his flashlight, flicking it on. He shone it around the interior of the barn, easily making out shelves and boxes, one twisted looking sort of sculpture, and what had to be a forge off in the corner with a chimney above it.

"Now we're in business." Dean crossed the barn to the forge and looked around for any sort of bucket, assuming he wouldn't get lucky enough to find one labeled 'cooling bucket'. He cursed in pain, tripping over something heavy and hit the floor with a thump. "Son of a bitch!" He aimed his light at the offending object and found an anvil resting on the floor. "Naturally." He groaned and held onto his aching shin for a moment and then narrowed his eyes; beside the anvil was a deep bucket. "Yahtzee." Dean sat up, reaching for the bucket, and flinched as the sound of a gun firing filled the barn, then shouted as he fell to his side and pain burned along his back and right shoulder.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Sam jerked awake at the muffled sound of a gun. "Dean?" He looked around and for a moment, couldn't remember why his brother wasn't there, and then it came back to him; Dean was gone to the metalsmith's to find the cooling bucket. He looked around, and the longer he waited, the more he got a feeling that something was wrong…that Dean was in danger.

"Can do this," Sam groaned and pushed up until he was sitting, though it left him panting through the pain. He hunched over his stomach and chest and refused to give in to it. He knew something was wrong. He pulled his left knee under him and then saw a stout limb from a tree a few feet away. "That…that'll work." Sam crawled slowly across until he could wrap his hand around it and used it to stand. It took him two tries to gain his feet, and he swayed dangerously when he did with his vision trying to tunnel down into blackness. "No. No, dammit," he argued with himself and moved. Sam took that first step and then the next and worked to keep his head up and aim for the barn while his right leg protested every twitch and stretch of muscle.

Though he had no memory of it, Sam knew this couldn't be the first time he'd had to struggle to move while badly burned. He forcibly shied away from even trying to remember but used the knowledge to keep him going each time he threatened to fall; that and the sure knowledge that his brother needed him. Sam topped the rise and looked down at the barn and the slope to it and groaned. He could see a window on the back wall that had been opened and figured that was how Dean had gotten in, but that wouldn't work for him. He saw a door as well, closer than the window, and sighed.

He eased himself to the ground and used his good leg and the branch to slide slowly to the bottom. Sam lay gasping at the bottom of the hill, left foot resting against the wall of the barn and waited for his head to clear. Even so, he still had to roll to his side and throw up as his stomach had finally had enough. He gagged and spit and fought off unconsciousness yet again until he was pushing back to his feet in almost a daze. Sweat dripped from his brow and ran into his eyes. He was too warm and knew it. Even the wintry air did little to help as he reached the door and found the padlock.

"Dammit," Sam moaned softly. He dug his lockpicks from his back pocket and bent awkwardly to get a hold of the thing, leaning heavily on the door. He tipped it up to the faint moonlight and resisted the urge to kick the building. The keyhole was rusted over; there would be no picking it. "Ok. Move…move, Sam," He ordered himself and started along the wall of the barn around to the side. There had to be another door. He used the building to help keep him on his feet while the pain rode through him in waves. He went down the side of the barn, and, as he neared the front, he heard a voice inside.

"Don't you damn move, asshole!"

Dean groaned and somehow didn't lose consciousness. It took him a moment to realize he'd been shot and another, as he got his eyes open and raised a shaking left hand to his right shoulder, to realize that he'd been shot with rock salt. "What the hell?" He let his head drop to the floor with a heart-felt, miserable groan. "Gotta be kidding me," Dean breathed and rolled his head slowly around to find who had shot him. "Rock salt, man? Dammit."

"You keep twitchin', I'm gonna give ya' the other barrel."

The angry voice made him roll his eyes because he had his own gun at his back, and he was sorely tempted to put a round of some good, old-fashioned lead in the asshole. "Look," Dean did his best to breathe through the pain. He didn't have time for it; Sam needed him. "I'm not…shit…I'm not here to steal anything, ok?"

"You just had a hankerin' to break into my shop in the middle of the night and take a walk?"

Dean blinked as a flashlight clicked on and was aimed at his face. "Dammit! I just need your bucket, alright?" He tried to sit up and the pain put him down again with that familiar ache he hadn't felt since the asylum, and that memory did not take him to a happy place.

"Plenty o' buckets 'round here that don't involve stealin', jackass."

Dean dropped his head again, trying to work past the fact his back felt like ground up burger meat. His chest started to throb out of sheer sympathy. "Need the bucket, man. Please." He cracked his eyes open to see the legs a few feet away and settled for honesty. "My brother….he's hurt, alright?"

"Yeah, right. Pull the other one, genius."

Dean jerked his head back up when he heard the man gasp and stared, blinking to clear his vision as he found there were now two sets of legs near him.

"Get the gun…off my brother." Sam jammed the barrel of his pistol behind the man's ear and fought not to give in to his injuries. It had taken what little he had left to get inside and up behind the man without being heard. "Now."

"Holy shit." The man groaned. He swung the shotgun away from the man on the floor and let it drop with a clatter. "Thought you said your brother was hurt, asshole."

Dean groaned and struggled off his side and to his knees. "He is. Sammy?"

"Hey…Dean. Got…got tired of wai…waiting." Sam's voice trailed off and he lost his battle.

"Shit!" Dean surged up, trying to reach Sam before he fell, but the strange man beat him to it as he spun and caught his little brother around the chest.

"Crap, you weren't lyin'. Huh."

The sight of the man who had just shot him holding a now unconscious Sam in his arms was enough to clear Dean's head instantly and send his own pain straight to the back burner in a jolt of adrenaline. Dean got one leg under him and then the other, staggering to his feet and trying not to move his right arm. "Give him to me."

"Easy, jackass." The man rolled his eyes, and eased the brother down to the floor, groaning under the surprising weight, and laid him out. "What the hell happened to him?"

"It's Dean. That's Sam, and it's a long story. Watch his shoulder." Dean went back to his knees beside his brother as the man stepped away and put a hand to his neck, feeling his pulse beating too fast. "Look, we need your cooling bucket filled with water. Please?"

The man looked down at them for a second and then shrugged. "Ah, what the hell. Name's John." He pulled his cooling bucket off the floor and went to the back of the barn.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean looked down at his brother and started unbuttoning his shirt so he could get a look at his chest and stomach and he grinned, shaking his head. "That was…badass as fuck, dude. Damn." He chuckled. "Right up until the point where you fainted like a girl." His brother moaned softly and Dean bent over him, his own wounds forgotten for the moment. "Sammy?"

"N…not a g-girl." Sam's voice was soft and ragged and made Dean grin.

Dean patted Sam's good shoulder while he heard water pouring in the back. "Just stay still for a minute. Found your bucket." Dean took the shoulder of his brother's t-shirt, already cut open from the slash wounds, and gently tore it down to bare his chest. He swallowed hard as he got another good look at what were clearly third-degree burns and blisters, some of them burst and weeping, and put a hand in his brother's hair when his head rolled toward him. "Any special instructions for the bucket?"

"M…no." Sam tried to get his eyes open but he had nothing left. "Water…pour…"

"Ok, buddy. Ok." Dean soothed as Sam slipped under again. "John, hurry up!" He called and his voice was heavy with worry.

"Keep your pantyhose on. I'm comin'." John lugged the old metal bucket back to the two boys and stopped, sloshing water on the floor when the beam of his flashlight crossed Sam's chest. "What'd you do? Try to cook him?"

"Not me. Come on!" Dean waved him over. "He said pour it over him. Chest, stomach, and right leg."

John shook his head and then shrugged again. "You say so. Not sure what getting' the poor kid wet's gonna do for him." He didn't argue though, hefted the bucket over Sam, and let the water pour out slowly over him and the angry red burns and blisters he could see. He thought it was a miracle the kid had stayed on his feet long enough to threaten him, given his condition.

"Faster," Dean urged with a hand at Sam's throat and very sure his brother, clearly far gone into shock at that point, was losing his fight. He watched the water pour from the bucket, scowling when he felt warm drops splash onto his hand. "It's warm?"

"Well water." John informed him and started to pour faster. "Anything comes outta the ground 'round here's warm."

"Dammit." Dean watched the water flowing over his brother's chest and then his stomach as John moved and started on his leg. "What the…" Dean's eyes widened in surprise as the burns on Sam's chest began to shift and flow along with the water, as though they were being washed away before his eyes, the inflamed red skin quickly turning Sam's normal, healthy tan once more. "Holy…crap. Damn, Sammy. When you're good, you're good." Sam had obviously deduced that if smith-forged nails could kill the creature, then a smith-forged bucket used to cool them might be able to heal the burns. Dean put a relieved hand back to Sam's throat as the burns quickly vanished, moving down his body along with the water from the cooling bucket, and he felt Sam's pulse strengthening. "Come on, buddy."

"Damn! How's that work?" John asked a little shocked when he looked back and saw the burns on Sam's chest had vanished. He made the quick association with the water he was pouring and, deciding that he didn't need to understand just then, he took greater care to make sure he saturated every inch of the kid's leg and moved back up to his stomach and chest to be sure. He frowned and nodded. "How come's those gashes on his shoulder ain't goin' nowhere?"

Dean sighed. "Guess the cooling bucket only works for the burns. I'll take it."

Sam floated back to consciousness, and the first thing he was aware of was…he felt like he'd been swimming in his clothes. He blinked his eyes open, seeing his brother's concerned but happy face and then realized his body didn't hurt anymore. He jerked up with a gasp to look down at himself and his now burn-free skin. "Whoa. It worked!"

Dean grinned, dizzy with relief, and clasped a hand around his little brother's soggy shoulder. "Did good, Sammy. Now, how 'bout you go grab our packs." He let his head drop and curled his right arm into his chest. "Find the damn tweezers."

"Ah, hell," John groaned and set the cooling bucket down. He ran a hand through wiry, silver hair and actually flinched back a step from the anger in Sam's eyes. "Hey, I thought he was robbin' me!"

"Dean?" Sam asked his brother, and it was a silent question, asking if his big brother was really ok with Sam leaving him with the man who had shot him.

"Yeah, go. He's harmless." Dean snorted wearily and curled forward over his knees. "Mostly."

"Alright." Sam got to his feet and swayed, close to going over when John's hand took hold of his arm and steadied him. He shook the cobwebs out of his head and met the man's eyes. "Nothing else happens to him."

John took his hand back and raised it in the air. "Hand to God, son. Ain't gonna touch his dumb ass again with you around."

Sam smirked and went back out the door he had come in. "Two minutes, Dean."

Dean looked up when he heard John moving around with a clatter and watched the man pull a carved, wooden chair out of the corner and bring it over to him.

"Come on, idiot." John smirked at the bad-tempered growl Dean gave him and took his left arm, levering him up and into the chair backwards so he could lean over the back.

Dean sighed and let his head hang while he hugged the back of the chair. "Still might come back later and kick your ass for this dude."

John chuckled and slapped a hand lightly over Dean's bloody shoulder. "Suck it up, Dean. It's only rock salt."

Dean shouted and turned a lethal glare at the laughing man in disbelief while the pain raged in his back. He let his head hang again and snarled. "Gonna come back here…superglue all your plates to the walls."

John barked a loud laugh at that and shook his head, still surprised at the turn the night was taking. "Might let ya' do that just to piss off the wife."

That made Dean chuckle, and then he heard the door open and his brother return and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding while Sam was gone. "Alright, Sammy?"

Sam smiled and set both packs down beside his brother. "Still kinda feel like a chew toy, but yeah." He picked at his now winter-cold, wet clothes and rolled his eyes. "Half-frozen chew toy." He looked over at John. "Can you hold a light for me?"

"Yep. Figure I owe him that much." John brought his flashlight over and held it out, wincing in sympathy while Sam got his brother's jacket and shirts off.

Sam took a good look at the injuries and smiled. "It's nowhere near as bad as last time," Sam assured him. "You're lucky he got you in the back. Your jacket took the worst of it."

"Awesome," Dean groaned and gripped the back of the chair more tightly. "Just get that crap out, please?"

"Yeah." Sam pulled out the first aid kit and dug the tweezers out. He braced a hand on Dean's good shoulder and started picking chunks of rock salt from his skin. Dean really had been lucky. The heavy fabric of his coat had stopped the worst of it, but he'd still be in pain for a few days, and Sam inwardly suffered a little with vivid memories of the last time he'd seen his brother loaded with rock salt. He cleaned the wounds quickly by John's light and disinfected them before taping gauze over most of his brother's shoulder to act as a buffer between it and his clothes.

"Dean?" Sam asked softly. Dean had remained stoic and quiet for most of it, doing little more than twitch at times, but he knew he'd hurt him.

Dean wanted to stay right as he was, not move for a month, and go to sleep. Instead, he lifted his head up and tentatively tried rolling his right shoulder. "Yeah…I'm good. Thanks."

Sam smiled, relieved that his brother was alright and that he'd managed to hide his shaking hands. He was fine, he was sure, but his body was clearly close to having had enough. "We need to get to the church," Sam told his brother while he packed up the first aid kit. He met Dean's curious gaze and nodded his head outside. "Saw fires burning when I was out there. They're headed our way."

"Fires?" John asked and now there was real fear in his voice. "Dammit! How close?"

"It's not that kind of fire, John." Sam straightened and buttoned his flannel over his torn shirt. The wintry, cold night was finally starting to get to him again. "This is…our kind of thing."

"Like burns that bad that wash away with water that ya' had to have my bucket for?" John watched them closely and both men nodded. He raised one eyebrow, but did not seem unduly phased by what he had seen and heard. "And what exactly are you gonna be doin' in our church?"

"Uh…probably better if you go home to the wife." Dean stood, swayed and steadied himself on the chair. He gave John a smirk. "Get that china ready to be super-glued."

John looked at him and his brother for a moment, weighing what little he knew against what he'd seen of them, and he nodded. He bent and picked up both heavy packs. "Best be gettin' on to the church now. Assumin' you two got a plan how to stop the fire that ain't exactly a fire?"

Sam's mouth dropped opened while the man headed out the door and he looked at his brother. "That…is a very…strange kinda guy."

Dean shook his head, a little in awe and took the flannel Sam handed him, pulled it on gingerly and then his jacket. "Dude's got a solid brass pair, that's for sure. Sure seems like he knows at least a little something 'bout something, doesn't it? Come on and you can tell me what this genius plan of yours is."

Sam let Dean lead the way and kept a hand at his elbow as he still looked unsteady on his feet. "You're not gonna like it."

"As long as it doesn't involve using you as bait, I'm good." When that remark was met with nothing but silence, Dean snorted, turned to look at his brother, and rolled his eyes. "No way, Sam. No. Way."

"Hey!" Sam raised his hands. "I _was_ gonna make you do it, but seeing as you're wounded now…that pretty much leaves me." He turned his brother back to the door and nudged him outside after John who was heading down the hill and across the road toward the white bulk of the church.

"You're wounded too." Dean pointed out angrily, and Sam's smile didn't help his calm.

"Less wounded than you at this point, Dean." Sam looked over his shoulder and saw the odd spots of fire that were creeping closer but not taking the forest with them. "We don't have a lot of time."

Dean snarled and started down the hill and having to be grabbed by his little brother when his head swam and he staggered did nothing to help his mood. "We're gonna talk about this," He said angrily.

Sam nodded and checked over his shoulder again as they neared the church. The fires were closer and Sam could almost feel something coming on the night air. He turned back and stumbled to a stop as steam began to rise up from the ground in various place and quickly created a cloud that seemed to glow in the moonlight. "This can't be good."

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_To Be Continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Sam pulled Dean across the road, through the swirling, glowing mists, and up the path to the church. The mist was actually smoke, and Sam could smell it as it rose up their legs. "Hurry." He wanted to get them both out of it before it reached their faces. It moved like water, rising higher and higher, and finally they stumbled up the steps into the church where Sam turned and slammed the door closed.

"Now what?" Dean asked and leaned back on one of the pews. He looked around and raised a brow. Compared to the rest of the town which looked two steps away from falling down, the church was in beautiful condition. White walls with gold trim, stained glass windows and gleaming wood, and an altar at the end of the aisle that would have been the envy of any church in any city.

John set their packs on a pew and went to look out the window. "Those fires are almost here."

Sam went to his pack and dug out his gas mask. "Is there a back way out of here?" He asked over his shoulder and frowned when he couldn't find what he was looking for in his pack. He pulled Dean's over and rummaged through it.

"Yeah. There's another door behind the altar there." John turned and waved an arm, raising a brow when he saw the gas mask next to Sam. He glanced over at Dean's pale face. "He about to do somethin' stupid?"

Dean snorted. "He thinks he is. Sam. Give."

"Alright, it's a…" Sam stopped and looked over at John. He straightened with a marker in his hand and narrowed his eyes. "You're awful calm for a guy seeing this much weird in one night."

John grinned and shook his head. "Ya got me." He smirked when both men stiffened, and Dean slid his good arm behind his back. "Oh, get yer hand off the piece, moron," John chuckled and waved a hand at Dean. "I'm a Hunter. Well, I was. Been retired oh…twenty years now, I guess."

"You're a…holy crap." Dean stared and shook his head, looking over at his brother. "What are the odds?"

"A Hunter named John." Sam shoved his hair out of his face with a laugh for the irony of finding an old Hunter with their father's name. "Wow."

"Former Hunter, thanks." John nodded. "Got outta the game, found a good woman, and figured this place was outta the way enough to stay outta the life." He rolled his eyes. "Then you two yahoos come through here like a bull in a china shop, and, yeah…" He put up a hand when both men opened their mouths to protest. "…I know this crap ain't your fault, but, damn, now I know how the civvies felt when I'd show up and start tossin' rock salt everywhere."

Dean chuckled and relaxed finally, letting go of the grip of his gun. "Well, alright then. That thing out there is a fire demon." Dean grinned at the look of shock on John's face. "And we killed a Makawe earlier, which was how Sam got boiled and why we needed your bucket."

"Forged metal." Sam nodded and moved over to the door, waving John out of the way. "Can you move the pews out of the way back here? I need more room."

"Room for what, Sam?" Dean asked, watching as his brother got on his knees and popped the cap off a permanent marker.

"It's a demon, or a…a type of demon. I figure some of the same rules should apply." Sam started a circle, making it as wide as he could, waiting for John to shove a pew out of the way and not groan while his shoulder throbbed.

"Devil's trap. Nice one, kid." John nodded in approval and made room for him, then he grabbed Dean's good arm and shoved him down into one of the pews. "Sit down before you fall down, idiot."

"Could you not insult my intelligence for, like…five minutes?" Dean said grumpily.

John snorted and slapped his wounded shoulder lightly again. "Nope."

Dean hissed and held his shoulder, shooting a dirty look up at him and then glared at his brother. "I hear even one laugh, Sammy. Just one…"

Sam smothered his chuckle and nodded while he drew the symbols in the center of the circle. "We're gonna lure it in and trap it here." He glanced up at Dean. "Then we kill it. I think this is where we made the mistake the last time. We didn't know to trap it first."

"First time?" John asked in surprise. "You boys have tangled with this thing before?"

"About seven years ago. It, uh…didn't end well." He ran his good hand through his hair and stood. "Help me find some fire extinguishers in this place and I'll explain. Sam? Stay!"

"I'm not a dog, Dean." Sam rolled his eyes and went back to his work while Dean and John headed back into the church. He quickly finished off the devil's trap and stood in the middle of it, checking it over. Satisfied, he went and picked up his gas mask. Sam looked toward the back of the church where he could hear but not see them and sighed. He pulled on the mask and slipped outside into the night as a cloud of smoke swirled into the church behind him before he closed the door. Sam went down the steps carefully, no longer able to see them or much of anything, in fact. The smoke was warm on his bare hands and neck, and he rubbed his left arm again unconsciously as it ached with memory.

"Dean's gonna kick my ass." Sam whispered ruefully and remembered how, all those years ago, the fire demon had seemed to follow him, be drawn to him; and back then, they'd had no idea why, but now Sam thought he knew. It was the demon blood inside him. It must be able to sense it and that's what he was counting on now as he walked slowly down the path in front of the church and stopped. He pulled a knife from its sheath at his back and laid it across his palm, making a shallow slice. He squeezed his fist and let the blood drip out onto the ground. "Come get me," Sam said softly into the smoke and waited as he heard the distant pop and crackle of fire move closer.

Dean pulled another fire extinguisher off the wall in the little kitchen off the rectory and smiled over at John. "Sorry to say your church might not make it. Last time, this thing brought down a whole damn warehouse."

John nodded and pulled open a closet where he knew another extinguisher was kept. They had five of them now. "Church goes down, we'll just put her back up." He shrugged and grinned. "S'kinda what we do around here."

Dean chuckled and looked at him. "You really retired? How does that even work?"

"Kid, not every Hunter's gotta end up young and dead." John slapped his shoulder, being kind and hit his good one for a change with a smirk. "You just gotta know when it's time to walk away and let the young guns have all the fun."

"Fun. Right." Dean said darkly and didn't elaborate at the questioning look on John's face. "Come on. Sam's gotta be done by now." He stumbled and nodded gratefully when John took his arm, righting him.

"You good for this, kid?" John asked because, truthfully, Dean looked ready to fall down and stay down for a day or two. He felt guilty as hell for loading him with rock salt, and then he chuckled. "Next time you break into someone's shop, don't let some old coot with a shotgun sneak up on ya."

"Nice." Dean rolled his eyes and went back out into the rectory. "How about next time you don't get trigger happy? Hey, Sam? You ready?" Dean moved out from behind the altar and looked down the aisle. "Sam? Oh, you stupid son of a… come on!"

John followed as Dean jogged down the aisle. "So the stupid's genetic then? Good to know."

Dean snarled angrily as his own pain once more fell away on worry for his brother. He hefted the fire extinguisher higher as he heard the sound of a roaring fire suddenly from outside. "Dammit!" They just reached the edge of the devil's trap when both doors of the church flew open. Smoke roiled in through the open doors and Sam emerged from the thick fog to fall in and slide into the trap on fire.

John dropped his extinguishers and ran for the kid, slapping at the flames burning up his arm and back while Sam tried to roll and put them out. "Damn, kid."

"Move." Sam gasped and pushed back with his feet as he looked out the door. He'd lost his gas mask when the fire demon had heated the air around him enough to melt the plastic into the side of his face and he'd had to tear it away. He coughed and grabbed John's arm. "It's coming. Move!"

Dean reached down and took Sam's arm. He dragged him clear of the circle with John's help and then moved to stand over him as flames filled the door of the church and inside them, the shifting figure they had seen before. "Get him back!"

"Ok. I'm ok." Sam assured John when the man tried to keep dragging him. He was singed and exhausted and had nearly been roasted alive outside, but he was alright. The fire demon had come in a rush with Sam's blood on the ground and sent a jet of flame up almost at his feet. Sam stood and squeezed his fist, encouraging more blood to flow and pushed Dean aside. "Move!" He flung his hand out and let his blood splatter into the devil's trap. "Come on!"

Dean frowned at the blood and looked over at Sam's intent face while his brain played catch-up, working out what Sam's plan had been and the frown turned to a scowl. "Next time you tell me, Sam! You hear me?"

Sam smiled wearily, taking the extinguisher John handed him as the fire demon surged into the church after his blood. "You'd have told me no."

"Damn right I'd have said…Whoa!" Dean danced back from the edge of the circle as the fire demon suddenly roared and filled the width of the devil's trap…but no farther. "Ha! Suck it you demonic freak!"

Sam grinned and flipped open the nozzle on the extinguisher. He frowned when John put a hand over his to stop him spraying it. "Huh?"

"Can't hurt to try." John nodded and looked at the inferno of flames roiling inches away. "It's a kind of a demon, right? Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis…"

Sam listened to the exorcism and smiled; John's Latin was perfect in spite of his heavy accent. The fire demon's roar grew in magnitude and for a moment, Sam thought it might work, but then John reached the end and the trapped flames remained. "That would have been too easy, I guess."

John shrugged and aimed his own extinguisher into the circle. "So, the last time you boys hosed this thing down, it basically exploded."

"Yep," Dean grinned over at him and shrugged. "Still glad you retired here?"

"If I die here tonight, you do me a favor." John looked over at Dean and gave him a grin of his own. "Don't let my wife find the porn stashed in my shop?"

Dean burst out laughing along with his brother and nodded. "Deal. Busty Asian Beauties?"

John scowled and shook his head. "Spicy Latinas." He waggled his brows suggestively.

Sam groaned a laugh. "Well, Dean. Now I know what you'll be like in twenty years." The fire demon roared again while Dean laughed and Sam nodded. "Can we do this now?"

"Let's drown this bitch." Dean nodded to his brother and John and, as one, they fired their extinguishers into the circle.

The foam and flame retardant seemed to send the fire demon into a frenzy. The flames billowed inside the circle and would have consumed them all in a fiery death if they could have escaped the trap. They roared up toward the ceiling, burning a perfect hole through the roof of the church and up into the night while cinders rained down on them.

Dean and Sam both flinched as the flames began to pulse, physically popping in front of them as they had the last time they'd try to kill it. Dean took a step closer to the edge of the trap, relieved when this time they weren't tossed off their feet by a concussion of air. He looked down at the gauge on his canister and frowned. "Startin' to run low here!"

John kept his extinguisher spraying with one hand and picked up another leaning against his leg. "Here!" He glanced across and tossed it over to Dean.

"Back up!" Sam yelled and took his own advice. He had a sudden feeling that the fire demon was nearing its end. The figure in the center of the flames had collapsed down and was nothing more than a dark ball near the floor now. He aimed the weakening stream of his extinguisher at it, nodding when his brother's and John's joined his. The roar of the flames suddenly stopped with the pillar of fire freezing in place. It was only for a second but the silence was deafening, and then an inhuman scream screeched through the church and the dark shape in the center exploded.

The concussion blew the flames to shreds, shattered all the windows as the floor the devil's trap was drawn on collapsed, and threw all three men flying. Dean slapped into a wall and slid to the floor with a thump. His back protested the abuse, and, for a moment, he saw stars and had to blink his vision clear as the lack of the sound of burning registered. He looked up and around. The church was a loss, he thought, with a gaping hole in the ceiling and the floor. The doors had been blown outside somewhere and all the stained-glass was toast.

"Sammy?" Dean managed finally and rolled up to his knees, coughing at the lingering smoke.

"Here."

Sam's pained voice came from a pile of benches to Dean's left and he got to his feet and staggered over. "You good?" He asked when he saw his brother lying on his back and holding his wounded left shoulder.

"Yep." Sam nodded but refused to move just then. "Check on John. Saw him flying the other way."

"Don't go anywhere," Dean warned with a smirk and climbed over him. "You still alive, you cranky old bastard?"

A groan answered Dean. "Soon's I get up…takin' your idiot ass…out back with a switch. Damn, that hurt worse than I remember."

Dean chuckled and found the old, retired Hunter half buried under some pews. He pulled a bench off the pile and kicked another out of the way before smiling down at him. He held out a hand to help him up.

"D'we get it?" John asked as he stood and looked around the ruined church. "Aw, hell." He said sadly, seeing the damage.

"Yeah. One dead fire demon." Dean nodded and went back over to his brother. He dropped to sit on the bench next to him and looked down. "You ready to get up?"

Sam shook his head. "S'comfy." He snorted at Dean's laugh and rolled to his right side. "Crap." Sam groaned with the wounds in his shoulder pulling and reopened, as he could feel a trickle of blood working its way down his chest. "We should…we should get out of here before…"

"Before my neighbors come runnin' to find out who blew up the church?" John laughed. "Yeah, you better. Come on." He reached down and pulled Sam up, holding on to him when he swayed. "Give you boys a ride to the roadblock in my truck."

"Awesome." Dean grinned and then frowned. "We have to stop at the old condos, though. That Makawe needs to be salted, burned, and…"

"…the ashes spread over fallow land." Sam finished and shrugged when Dean rolled his eyes.

"I can do that. You two need to not be here." John pulled Sam along with Dean following in his wake. They had to skirt around the gaping hole in the floor to get outside and the damage looked even worse from out there. "Probably won't take 'em more than five minutes to get here."

John was as good as his word, piling them into his aging pick-up truck and had them away from the motley collection of houses before anyone was the wiser. He drove them out to the roadblock and helped Dean get his brother out of the bed.

"Thank you," Sam told John as the older man helped him up and over the earthen mound. "For everything. You saved my life…even if you did shoot my brother." He smirked. "Not that I don't think he deserves it sometimes."

"Shuddup, bitch!" Dean yelled from the other side of the roadblock. "You can walk back to town!" He chuckled and jogged down the road, smiling when he found the Impala right where he'd left her.

John laughed and steadied Sam down the muddy slide of the hill. "Kinda glad you two came when you did." He rubbed a hand through his hair and shook his head. "Little pissed at myself honestly. Had a demon and a - what'd you call it? Makadoo?"

Sam chuckled for the similarity to something Dean might say. "Makawe."

"Yeah, that. Both o' those in my backyard, and I had no clue." John shrugged. "Guess it's a good thing I retired when I did." He gave a long, appreciative whistle as Dean pulled the Impala down the road and up beside them. "Oh, now that is one sweet honey of a car!"

Sam snorted and opened the passenger door. "Don't get him started."

Dean climbed back out and grinned over the hood at John. "She's awesome, ain't she?" He rounded the front end and clasped hands with the old Hunter. He took a card out of his pocket that he'd hastily scribbled a number on and handed it to him. "You ever need anything, call us. We'll be here." He glanced in the windshield at his little brother who was slumping down in the seat with his head back and smiled up at the old man. "I owe you…a little. I'd have owed you more, but you shot me, so…"

John laughed and slapped his bad shoulder one last time, grinning as Dean huffed out a pained laugh. "Remember to watch your damn back and we'll call it even."

"Think I might actually miss you." Dean growled and went back to the driver's side. He climbed back behind the wheel and tossed a wave to John when he reached the top of the hill before pulling away. Dean reached down and turned on the heat. "How you doin' over there, princess?"

"Suck it, Dean," Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. "Popped a couple of your stitches, I think, but I'm good."

"Damn. We'll get you fixed up back at the motel." Dean looked over at Sam's pale face and enjoyed the fact that he was there to give him that bitch face when it had so nearly gone the other way back in that barn.

"Stop staring at me. It's creepy," Sam said with his eyes closed and knew he was right when he heard Dean snort a laugh. "I'm fine." He knew what Dean was thinking. Sam had thought it too. He'd gotten lucky with the cooling bucket and made a guess that saved his life, but he knew how close he'd come. He could still feel the strain it had put on his body, though the burns were gone and was, even then, fighting the need to sleep until they reached the motel.

Dean made the drive in silence. He knew Sam was at the end of his rope in spite of the miraculous healing and wanted to be able to hear if something went wrong. His gut just wouldn't let it rest until he had him properly patched up. He was actually happy to see the little town again and even happier when he pulled into the motel. It put Dean in such a good mood, he didn't even cuss at the idiot who'd parked a semi across the damn parking lot like a road block.

"Hey, Sam." Dean reached over and nudged him, and Sam's tired eyes met him. "Unless you wanna sleep in the car, we're here."

Sam smirked and nodded, sliding back up in the seat. He popped his door open and slowly got out. The only thing that kept him from feeling like an invalid was Dean's equally slow and careful exit from the car. He smiled. "How is it the old retired Hunter was moving better than we are?"

Dean chuckled and waved him off when Sam headed for the trunk. "I'll get the bags."

Sam wanted to argue, but he took it and headed around the haphazardly parked big rig and down the building to their room.

Dean watched Sam's unsteady gait until he rounded the truck and shook his head. He was going to make sure the idiot stayed down for a few days once he got him back to Bobby's. He went to the trunk and tugged open the heavy packs. He pulled out the first aid kit and a few weapons and shoved them into the weapons bag before closing the trunk. Dean hefted it on his good shoulder and groaned. He was really tired of being shot with rock salt. He went around the rig, delivering a soft kick to the cab's grill for making them have to walk half the building to get to their room.

"Sammy, grab me a beer from the fridge," Dean called as he went through the open room door and kicked it shut behind him. He frowned, realizing Sam wasn't there. "Sam?" He went to the closed bathroom door and knocked it while warning bells started going off in his mind. Sam didn't answer and Dean wrenched the door open onto an empty bathroom.

"What the hell?" Dean turned to look back at the room and felt the blood freeze in his chest; there were spots of fresh blood on the carpet by the door. "No. No way." He ran to the door and yanked it open and found a few more spots on the pavement. Dean looked up, watching the big rig that had blocked the parking lot pull away and then around the motel. "SAM!"

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_To Be Continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Sam woke in a world of confusion and pain. He had a hazy memory of walking into the motel room. He'd been half-asleep and his eyes had instantly gone to the bed in the corner before the door was even open all the way, and then…pain. Someone had grabbed him from behind, pinned his arms, and he'd been too slow. There had been a searing, tearing pain in his neck and then nothing. He moved to raise a hand and grunted in surprise when he couldn't. He opened his eyes and tried to move. He was sitting up and bound to whatever he was sitting on, stripped of his jacket and shirts and shivering as cold air swirled over his bare chest. It was dark, but as he rolled his head and gasped sharply at the pain in the side of his neck, a light flared to life a few feet away.

"You know, I thought for sure you were going to be more of a challenge." The light revealed a man's face. He was young with a short, trimmed beard of blonde hair and a bald head. "The infamous Sam Winchester. Couldn't believe our luck when we followed the scent of your blood to that ridiculous car."

"Blood?" Sam asked and frowned, still confused. "Don'…don't insult…the car." He swallowed against a wave of nausea. "Brother'll…kick your ass. Loves that car."

"Blood, moron. God, how have you lived this long?" The man came over and knelt in front of Sam, holding the light, a small torch, and he smiled.

Sam sucked in a breath, leaning back in the chair as rows of fangs descended over human teeth, and the aching pain in his neck suddenly made sense. "Vampires." He closed his eyes, hoping that wherever Dean was, he'd gotten away. "Dammit."

The vampire laughed at him. "Shouldn't have killed Joey, Winchester. He was stupid, but he was mine." He leaned in pressed a finger into the bloody wound in Sam's neck until he shouted in pain. "It's gonna cost you."

"Joey?...What….Where am I?" Sam's brain was still playing catch-up, but he was getting there, and he refused to give in to the fear and glared at the creature instead and then around his prison. It struck him suddenly that he felt motion, and, a moment later, it dawned on him and he groaned. "That damn truck blocking the parking lot, and…the rigs at the truck stop…crap."

The vampire chuckled and slapped his knee like they were sharing a joke. "Vampire truckers, man. I'm telling you. It's the best way to hide from you Hunter sons-of-bitches." He snorted. "Most of the time." He reached a hand up to Sam's left shoulder and clamped his fingers around it, squeezing until Sam started to twitch in his ropes. "Had a rough couple days, I take it? We almost went into Centralia after you, but we couldn't smell you in there." He leaned in and sniffed. "Too much damn smoke and something else."

"So…you waited for us to…come back out," Sam gritted his teeth through the pain.

"Well, if you didn't come out, it'd be because you were dead." He grinned that toothy smile and shrugged. "Anyone who knows about you two knows how your brother is about that car of his."

"Good for you." Sam glared at him again. "You realize my brother gets a little…tetchy when I'm hurt? This does not end well for you."

The vampire leaned in to him again and his grin widened. "Oh, your brother's not gonna be a problem for anyone ever again. He was paying even less attention than you were." He patted Sam's chest and enjoyed the way his eyes widened in horror. "You're officially an only child."

Sam's world fell out from under him. "No," he breathed and shook his head slowly, the pain in his neck and shoulder forgotten. "He can't…you didn't…NO!" He jerked against the ropes holding him while the vampire laughed.

"Don't worry, Sam. We're not going to turn you." The vampire rolled his eyes. "I don't even want to imagine the nightmare of the last Winchester, immortal and hunting every undead thing on the planet in revenge." He chuckled. "We _are_ going to make you beg for death before the end though. We owe Joey that." He stood and took a step back. "Don't kill him. Not yet. Just make it hurt."

Sam's eyes narrowed and then he heard the hiss of movement behind him. He looked back at the vampire in front of him and let the rage run through him. "You son of a bitch. When I get out of these ropes…and I will…you're gonna die." Sam jerked as hands slid over his shoulders and arms. He was oblivious to the tears coursing down his face and he shouted angrily as the first set of fangs bit through into his arm. He jerked, feeling the teeth tear, and, in his fury, didn't care. Sam tore his right arm free of the rope and grabbed the head at his arm, pulling with a roar and threw him forward onto the floor.

"Dammit, hold him down!" His vampire captor ordered angrily. "He's one damn guy!"

Sam wasn't just one guy…he was Dean's little brother, a Hunter, born and bred; and knowing that they'd killed him…he had nothing left. He wasn't going to stumble through life again without his brother by his side; not again. Sam slammed his elbow back and heard the satisfying sound of bone crunching, and then the entire chair was pulled over backward. His head slammed into the metal floor and what felt like a boot pushed down on his neck while his free arm was held immobile.

"Not gonna die that easy, Sam," the vampire told him at last over the sound of many people out of breath and a few moans of pain. "You haven't begged yet."

Sam's eyes fell closed while his lungs screamed for oxygen, but the boot on his throat just pressed harder.

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Dean's eyes unerringly went back to the semi as it tried to make the turn out of the motel lot. He didn't bother stopping to think about it. His gut said 'go' and he was off at a run, sprinting the length of the lot and thankful the place seemed mostly empty as he ran up the outside of the eighteen foot trailer and to the cab. He jumped to catch the low rising step, grabbed the safety rail on the side, and ripped the cab door open. He knew he was right the moment he swung into the driver's space and clamped a hand over the man's arm.

"Vampire," Dean growled. Ever since he'd been turned and cured, he could practically smell them. There was a short, pitched battle where the blood-sucker tried to knock Dean loose but finally ended up in the space between the seats curled up and whining around a broken arm while Dean pulled the door shut and threw the truck in gear. He kept one eye on the vampire and the other on the road as he pulled into a vacant lot just down the street from the motel.

Dean parked the rig, opened the door and dragged his still-whining captive out with him and down the length of the trailer. "If my brother's anything but alive and pissed when I open those doors, you're gonna have a very bad day. You hear me?" He snarled it at him as they reached the back of the trailer. Dean threw him down, ignoring the pathetic cries of 'please' and 'it wasn't my idea,' while he pulled his gun. Sure, it wouldn't kill them, but he could still slow them down, depending on how many there were. This was one of those times when he REALLY missed the Colt. He reached up and turned the latch then flung the doors wide…onto nothing. The trailer was empty.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean bent and pulled the vampire up to slam him into the trailer. "Where is he?"

"Not here?" The vampire said as though he suddenly found something very funny.

Dean's rage went up another notch and took him that last little step into calm; the sort of calm he'd learned in the pit. "Mistake," he told the idiot softly and jerked him up until he could throw him into the trailer. Dean found the light switch and flicked it. A single bulb glowed to life above them, and he pulled the doors shut with a resounding clang and turned on the undead thing. Dean put the gun away and stalked over to him while he drew the long knife from the sheath at his back. He was actually thankful they'd just come back from a job or he might not have had the weapon there. It killed him a little to let that side of him out again, but this was Sam. The vampires had him, and he would do anything to keep him safe.

"Go ahead, Winchester. Kill me." The vampire hissed up at him and smiled. "My nest is gonna make dinner outta you two…little brother first, though."

"I'm not gonna kill you," Dean drawled slow and heavy, and he kicked the vampire over onto his stomach, knelt with one knee pressed into his back to keep him still, and grabbed a handful of oily hair to pull the thing's head up. "Not yet. First, we're gonna have a little chat and you're going to tell me where my brother is." Dean pushed the point of his knife into the back of the vampire's shoulder just hard enough to break through his jacket and slide into the skin below the bone. He smiled grimly when the thing howled.

"If you tell me where he is, I promise to kill you quick." Dean pushed the blade in further, angling it in a way that had once been second nature to him during the worst time of his life, so that it grated on bone. "Until you tell me, my knife is gonna get damn personal with your tender bits, and I promise you…" Dean leaned down to growl directly into the now crying vampire's ear. "…you don't know anyone better at bringin' the pain than me, pal. Where is he?" Dean shoved until the knife punched through the vampire's shoulder and tapped on the metal floor of the trailer while the thing screamed for mercy. "Where's Sam?"

It took Dean all of ten minutes to break the vampire. He was both relieved and a little disappointed that he'd only had to put three more holes in him to get what he wanted. "Everything. Now."

The vampire, Bob, as he'd told Dean a minute earlier, cried and tried to catch his breath from the immense pain the Hunter had inflicted on him. "There's…there's a truck. S'got a…big red devil on the side." He coughed and couldn't stop the whimper when Dean tapped the blade on the back of his head. "You killed Joey, ok? We followed the smell of his blood here, but you…you were already gone, and we searched the room and…and found your car and realized who it was and…Sebastian lost it a little." Bob cried when he felt he blade move along his throat and swallowed hard. "He's gonna take…take your brother to the Fifty."

"What's the Fifty?" Dean asked and kept the blade where Bob could feel it.

"Abandoned bar, off the road on the interstate at…at mile marker 50." Bob let his head drop to the floor of the trailer. "I swear, man, that's all I know. We run the roads, and we were just…we'd parked the convoy at the damn rest stop…went to the town over the hill to find…find…"

"Lunch," Dean said darkly. "How many of you are there? And don't lie to me."

Bob shook his head furiously. "N-no. No way. Nine. There were ten, but then…Joey, you know?"

"Yeah I know." Dean nodded, satisfied. He didn't warn him, seeing no need to further scare the pathetic excuse for a vampire. If this one and Joey were anything to go by, he wondered how the nest had survived. He braced the edge of the blade against Bob's neck and gave a mighty thrust down so it severed his head to roll a few inches away and lay, staring.

Dean wiped the knife clean on Bob's jacket and stood, slipping it behind his back again. "Thanks, Bob," Dean said softly. He shook himself and slipped out of the trailer, relieved to not see anyone watching, and jogged back to the motel. He went back to the room to recover the weapons bag and slammed the door closed behind him as he ran to the Impala and slid behind the wheel and burned rubber out of the parking lot. All the while, his brain reminded him that they had almost a fifteen minute head start on him; that they'd had Sam alone that long. His little brother was somewhere with nine…Dean shook his head firmly, thinking of Bob…eight vampires, and he'd been damn close to passing out when they had reached the motel.

He pulled out his cell and dialed Bobby, not waiting to hear his voice when the gruff Hunter picked up. "Bobby, that nest of vampires I asked you about? Found 'em. They're travellin' cross-country in a damn caravan of big rigs, and we pissed them off. They've got Sam." He shook his head when Bobby started firing questions at him. "Off the interstate at mile marker 50 is where I'm goin'. It's where they've got Sam. You don't hear from me in a couple hours, you should probably send someone to clean up the mess." He flipped his phone closed on Bobby's frantic questions and shoved it back in his pocket. He needed to focus.

"Hang on, Sammy," Dean whispered the soft plea as he hit the interstate again and saw mile marker 68. "Hang on."

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

"Wake up, kid."

Sam jerked as cold water splashed into his face and ran over his bare chest. He blinked it out of his eyes as he shivered and found the vampire from the truck standing over him. They'd moved him. There was a bright light over him, and he lay on something fuzzy and hard with his legs hanging over the sides at the knees and when he turned his head, realized he'd been tied down to a pool table in what looked like a long, abandoned bar. "Where are we?"

"End of the line, genius." The vampire thumped a fist into Sam's bare stomach over his solar-plexus and forced all the air out of his lungs in a rush. He smiled. "Might take a while, depending on how…hungry some of my family is, but this is it for you." He leaned in while Sam sucked in a gasping, desperate breath. "A world without Winchesters. Whatever will we do?"

"Screw…you, asshole." Sam managed between heavy gasps as he got his breath back.

"Sebastian, Sam. Call me Sebastian. I expect you to beg properly for death and use my name." Sebastian chuckled and waved a hand over the table as he turned away. "Taste him. If he dies before I say…" He fixed the seven vampires of his family with a steely glare. "…you'll find yourselves begging in his place. Understand?" They gave him a silent round of nods and he smiled and stepped back out of the way.

Sam tried to steel himself as the group of vampires circled the pool table, and he definitely tried not twitch when too-cold hands slid over the skin of his arms and chest, like they were studying him. He was grateful they hadn't stripped him. He smirked and shook his head, for some reason amused that he got to keep his dignity intact if nothing else. He shouted as the first set of teeth bit into his arm, jerking away from the touch only to feel the head of another vampire brush the side of his chest and those vicious teeth sink in over his ribs.

Sam lost track of the number of mouths against his skin. They fed at his arms, his chest…someone shoved his head up and forced him to look down his own body and cry out as teeth bit behind his neck. "Shit!"

"All you have to do is beg, Sam," Sebastian said suddenly and moved where Sam could see him. "Just beg."

"Go…to hell!" Sam yelled angrily.

Sebastian sighed and shook his head. He crooked his finger at his mate who had patiently waited and now came eagerly to his side. "Lizzie." He ran his fingers through her white-blonde hair and kissed the end of her nose between eyes so light blue they were almost silver. "Have a treat, love, but Do. Not. Kill him." Sebastian punctuated each word with a tap to her nose until she smiled and nodded. "Good girl. Back!" he yelled, and the rest of his family of vampires hastily moved away from the tasty human on the table.

Sam was panting for breath, dizzy and in enough pain that it began to fall into the background for him. He picked his head up nervously when he felt a hand brush his thigh, and his eyes widened as Lizzie moved between his legs. "No offense, sister, but I…I like my women…with a pulse and fewer dental issues." Sam grinned weakly and could almost hear his big brother's chuckle, but that thought drove fresh tears into his eyes again, and he let his head fall back. Dean was gone. Sam had been too slow, too damn stupid, and Dean had died. Now it was his turn, and he found himself welcoming it. He ignored the ache in his back at being bent unnaturally over the table. His legs were going numb below the knee where they were tied to the legs of the pool table. He looked up again as Lizzie's light weight settled over his chest. Her mouth opened revealing the rows of razor teeth and as she neared his face, Sam found just enough strength to lunge forward and slam his head into hers…or he tried, but a hand twisted savagely in the back of his hair, making him shout as he was pulled back to look into Sebastian's eyes.

"Play nice, Sam." Sebastian warned him and looked up at his mate.

Lizzie smiled and slid back down Sam's body, letting her fingers play through the trails of blood over the fine muscles of chest and stomach. "I like this better than his throat anyway," she whispered softly.

Sam felt her hands brush his thighs as panic swamped him. "Wait, what…" He shouted in surprised pain when he felt teeth cut into the meat of the inside of his thigh, and then his breath seemed to clog in his throat. Sam could feel his blood being drawn out of him and into her mouth. A broken groan of disgust escaped him as she sucked harder and pressed a hand into his stomach far too intimately.

Sebastian leaned in, maintaining his vice-like grip in the man's hair and smiled into Sam's glazing eyes. "That would be Lizzie's second favorite place to drink from. Trust me, Sam." He glanced down at his mate and watched her throat work as she swallowed. "You don't want her to show you the first. Beg."

Sam managed the smallest shake of his head while the world swam. "N…no." He closed his eyes when Lizzie's mouth pulled harder at his blood, her fingers wrapping around the front of his belt, and Sebastian pulled hard enough at the back of his hair he thought his neck would break as he bent it over the side of the pool table. "Dean," he whispered sorrowfully.

"Beg or I'll let her," Sebastian warned him and really hoped that Sam would continue to defy him. He frowned, watching as the boy's eyes began to roll back and sighed. "Lizzie, dear. Stop…" Chaos erupted inside the abandoned bar. An arrow hit Lizzie in the back and she slid to the floor with a strangled cry while holy water seemed to rain from some of the holes in the ceiling. Amid the surprised screams and shouts from his companions, Sebastian glared up, trying to see around the light when another arrow sliced into his chest. He stared in surprise for a moment, and then the sickness of dead man's blood oozed through him. He lost his grip on Sam's hair and went to the floor on his knees.

Sebastian turned his head and could only watch in a daze as the unholy fury that was Dean Winchester laid waste to his vampires one by one. The older Winchester moved through the empty bar like death on legs as he scythed through the nest with his machete and the undead quickly became the truly dead until at last, Dean was standing over him.

Dean sucked back the rage enough to lean down into Sebastian's face and smile. "My little brother did two hundred years in a cage with two…very pissed off archangels, asshole. Sam doesn't beg for anyone." He pulled Sebastian away from the table and met his fearful eyes. "You understand now?" Dean asked and raised the machete high. "You get it? The depth of your mistake."

Sebastian's eyes flowed around the room and his destroyed nest and he nodded, closing his eyes. "Should never…have taken…Sam."

Dean swung and severed his head cleanly, then kicked his corpse over. "Damn straight! One more minute, Sammy," Dean told his brother softly, though he wasn't even sure Sam could hear him at that point. Dean went around the other side of the pool table and pulled the bitch who'd had her head in his brother's crotch up. He didn't bother saying anything. Dean sent her head rolling with the others, and only then, knowing they were all dead, put his attention where it needed to be. He looked down at his hands and snarled. "Dammit." Vampire blood coated his hands, and with the wounds on Sam, he couldn't risk touching him without being clean. Dean strode to the crumbling bar and found the sink behind it. He twisted the knobs and grinned in relief when the water flowed. It took him precious minutes to scrub his hands clean and finally he was at his brother's side again.

"Sammy?" Dean laid his hand over Sam's bleeding neck and smiled when he found his pulse, weak but steady. "Ok, buddy. Hang on." He gave himself a moment to take in the numerous bites and knew it was a minor miracle that he hadn't been bled dry. Dean went to the end of the table and slashed through the ropes holding his brother's legs until they swung free and then cut his arms loose. He looked at Sam, the bites and the blood, and the still sluggishly bleeding wound in his inner thigh that was far too close to the femoral artery for his liking and sighed.

"Really wish you'd wake up now, dude," Dean took his phone out, dialing Bobby again and rested a hand on Sam's blood-wet chest so he could feel his heart beating…feel him breathing. "Bobby. I've got him." Dean took in a breath and let it out. "The nest's dead and Sam's alive, but…Bobby, I need help. You know someone…no, I can't take him to a hospital. How the hell am I gonna explain why he looks like a miniature shark's chew toy?" Dean said angrily and knew it was just the fear talking. Apparently, so did Bobby because he kept his calm. "Alright. Bobby, thanks."

Dean slipped the phone away and bent over Sam. "Ok, Sammy. Bobby's got a friend about a half-hour from here that can fix you up." He took his brother's arms and pulled him up until he was leaning against his chest, swallowing hard at how boneless he was. "Bobby says the guy's a vet now, not a people doctor, not anymore, but you being a sasquatch and all, a vet works, right?" He wondered if his voice sounded as worried as he was afraid it did, but it didn't matter. Sam was out. His rambling words of comfort were as much for his own sake as Sam's. Dean slid his brother over his shoulders in a fireman's carry and staggered across the bar, around the bodies and severed heads, and out into the sunlight.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

Dean snapped out of the light doze he'd fallen into when the arm under his hand twitched. "Sammy?" He sat up and leaned forward before he was even completely awake and smiled as his brother's head turned toward his voice on the pillow, still working his way toward actual consciousness. Sam was a patchwork of bandages on his arms and chest, and the skin that did show glistened with fever sweat. Infection had set in in the wounds in his shoulder from the Makawe, and Dean had suffered through playing nurse for Dr. Laramie while he sewed up the jagged, torn bite in his brother's inner thigh. Dean would tease him about that one when Sam stopped looking like he was going to drop dead any second.

"Sam," Dean called again and put his hand in Sam's hair to stop his head rolling and aggravating the healing wounds on his throat. "Come on, buddy. Wake up already. I'm runnin' outta Cosmo mags to read here."

Sam frowned as he heard his brother's voice, because…Dean was dead. If Dean was dead and he was hearing him then… "M'I dead?"

"What?" Dean asked, surprised. "Dude, no! Come on, dammit. Open your eyes, Sam."

Sam felt the familiar weight of Dean's hand slide around the side of his neck and then the pain of his wounds, and that made him snap his eyes open. He blinked until his blurred vision showed him Dean, very much alive with exhausted eyes and a sloppy grin on his face. The memory of believing that Dean had been killed swept through Sam and stole his breath.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, seeing the odd look on his face and then he grunted as his little brother surged up out of the bed, ignoring the pain from sudden abuse to the numerous stitches, and wrapped him in a desperate, clinging hug. "Dude! What gives?"

"You're alive," Sam gasped and didn't give a damn about Dean's chick flick rule just then. He buried his face in his shoulder and held on feeling the tears of relief and gratitude slide down his cheeks. "Said he killed you."

"Holy crap." Dean groaned and nodded, understanding. "Ok. Hey. I'm good, Sammy." He wrapped his arms around Sam's shaking shoulders and let him have his minute. Dean smirked. "You missed me savin' your ass, princess. I was Rambo."

Sam gave a wet chuckle that turned to a groan as the myriad pains throughout his body made themselves known. He loosened his grip and was grateful beyond words that Dean was there to ease him back to the pillows. "Vampires?"

"What'd I just say? Toast." Dean rubbed his knuckles on his shirt. "Went back yesterday and burnt the whole damn place down."

"Yester…how long have I been out?" Sam scowled when Dean cleared his throat.

"You lost a lot of blood, and that skank damn near tore out the artery in your leg." Dean smiled and tried for relaxed. "Four days."

Sam stared for a moment while that sunk in and then looked down at himself and the bandages covering him. "Am I…you know, ok?"

Dean nodded. "Yep. Nothing a few pints of awesome couldn't fix." He grinned and pointed to the bandage taped to his inner arm that said he'd donated to his brother. He leaned in, smile turning serious and set a hand back on his brother's chest. "How you feeling?" Having Sam awake and alert was enough of a relief to make him want to curl up and sleep for a month after the last four days of watching his temperature climb, fall, climb again, and Sam mutter deliriously about his brother being gone through the whole thing.

Sam considered and raised one arm, letting it fall back. "Tired. Hot."

"Yeah, you're fever's still up, but it's coming down." Dean smiled again and patted his chest. "How's soup sound?"

Sam wrinkled his nose. "How about…Gatorade?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "And soup. Four days, dumbass. You need food, and the doc's got some homemade chicken noodle in the fridge."

"Doc?" Sam really looked around then and realized they weren't in a motel or a hospital. "Where…"

"Friend of Bobby's." Dean said simply and smiled as he stood and stretched the kinks out of his back. "Needed someone to patch you up."

"Ok." Sam nodded, accepting that and then frowned. "Dean, how come there are band-aids on the ends of your fingers?" Sam pointed.

Dean looked down at his right hand and the band-aids on four of the fingers. He snorted and then chuckled and shrugged. "I'm a man of my word, Sammy." He gave Sam a lopsided grin and reached over to the table next to the bed, handing Sam a blue and white china glass to drink from. "John's wife? Got some lovely china."

Sam stared at the china and then up at his brother as the laugh bubbled up and he shook his head. "Holy crap. Dean, you didn't?"

"I did." Dean nodded cheerfully and slapped Sam's leg while his little brother laughed. He rolled his right shoulder and the still sore wounds from the rock salt and didn't feel sorry at all for sneaking into the man's house and gluing half his wife's china to the wall of their dining room. "Paid him a little visit after I torched the nest."

Sam laughed and gasped and curled over around his chest and the ache of the wounds while his eyes watered. He nodded when he felt Dean's hand on the back of his neck. "M'ok." He managed after a minute and snorted softly. "You're lucky he didn't put another round of rock salt into you. He's…he's gonna kill you."

"Only if he catches me." Dean smiled and decided soup could wait a little longer. He sat next to Sam again and didn't comment when he felt his little brother twine his fingers in the hem of his shirt. The last time Sam had been awake, he'd thought he was about to die and that Dean had already been killed. It earned him a days' reprieve on being clingy. Tomorrow, though…tomorrow Dean started teasing about vamp chicks with their heads in his crotch and looked forward to how many shades of red he could make Sam turn. "Go back to sleep, little brother." He smiled and kept his hand on Sam's neck, easing him back to sleep. "I gotcha." He rolled his eyes as Sam let a long, relieved breath and dropped back into sleep like Dean had flipped a switch. "Such a girl," he whispered but didn't move which, he guess, made him a big girl too.

**_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_ **

_The End._


End file.
